


R's Bumblebee

by dimesandnickels



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Attempted Murder, Background Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire, Backstory, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Fluff and Angst, Grantaire Angst, Grantaire-centric, M/M, Minor Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Oblivious Enjolras, Original Character(s), Poor Grantaire, Sad Grantaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimesandnickels/pseuds/dimesandnickels
Summary: The house that the Amis share receives a surprise guest. Well, technically her arrival was only a surprise to Enjolras, and not just because she sucker punched him in the nose. Apparently he was the only one who thought Grantaire was an only child.





	1. Poor Enjolras (said no one ever)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: minor violence and Enjolras being a jerk

Enjolras started to miss the days when his biggest problems were corruption and Grantaire as soon as he was given a bloody nose by an eight-year-old girl. His troubles began on a seemingly normal day of protest planning at the shared house of the Amis. Normal meetings were held at a cafe down the road called the Musain, but Musichetta had to draw the line at them using the back room for the entire day. Enjolras had a power point pulled up on his laptop and was informing the group of the program outline and where they would march when he was interrupted by the phone ringing in the kitchen. Courfeyrac, who had been sitting next to him on the couch, started to get up at the same time as Grantaire sat up from where he had been unashamedly napping on the floor. 

“Leave it,” Enjolras told Courfeyrac.

“But what if it’s important?” Courfeyrac asked while batting his eyelashes. It probably was just a telemarketer, but the social butterfly of the group always held onto hope that there would be an interesting conversation to be had. 

“Fine,” Enjolras sighed, “I’ll give you a summary later.” Courfeyrac bounced out of the room to answer the phone. 

Enjolras resumed his presentation only to stop when he realized no one was listening to him in favor of eavesdropping in on Courfeyrac being unnecessarily chatty. 

“You don’t seem like his type, so are you his boss or something? Is he in trouble? Are you a relative?” 

“How is the person supposed to answer if he doesn’t given them any time?” Enjolras asked Combeferre. 

“He just likes to talk for the sake of hearing his own voice,” Combeferre said with a dry smile. 

“Fine,” Courfeyrac sounded exasperated, perhaps the caller had finally managed to talk over the student. 

“Grantaire, an angry lady’s on the phone for you!” Grantaire’s slight smirk melted into a look of concern as he leapt to his feet. 

“Well, we might as well continue our meeting since Grantaire wasn’t participating in the first place,” Enjolras said as soon as Courfeyrac reentered the room. 

When Grantaire returned several minutes later, Enjolras shot him a glare.

“Are you done interrupting?” he asked, irritated. For once, Grantaire didn’t give a reckless grin in response and instead raised an eyebrow and frowned. 

“I didn’t tell her to call during your precious meeting.”

“He has a point, Enjolras,” Combeferre cut in, preventing Enjolras from snapping about how Grantaire was constantly on the home phone. 

 

The protest went anything but smoothly. Because Enjolras liked to be prepared, the main five hour meeting had occurred a week and a half before the protest. Therefore everyone should have been given ample forewarning and be present, and yet Joly had been missing the last ever since the meeting and informed the group that he was sure if he would be attending the protest because of a ‘project about doctor stuff,’ Jehan, Musichetta, and Bossuet were leaving the night before the protest on an important errand and wouldn’t come back until that night, and finally Courfeyrac was sick and Feuilly was staying behind to look after him.

“Grantaire is also missing,” Combeferre told him as the two of them plus Bahorel walked toward the city square.

“Well that’s nothing new.” When had he started to verbalize his thoughts?

“Actually, he has only missed a total of two protests, which puts him above at least half of the group,” Combeferre informed him. 

During his speech about human rights, a familiar head of curls weaved its way through the crowd. Grantaire made it to the statue that stood in the square and hosted himself up. He leaned down and helped a smaller man join him- Joly. Enjolras looked to his friends that had come with him and were standing in the front row. Combeferre had also noticed the two new arrivals and was hurrying through the crowd toward them. Bahorel stayed put, though his eyes often wandered to where the other three were, looking worried. 

‘There’s nothing I can do about it while giving a speech’ he decided and put any questions he had out of his mind. He succeeded at ignoring Grantaire for a few minutes before he saw the other man weave his way through the crowd, pushing other people to the side. Joly and Combeferre attempted to follow him but were lost in the crowd. Enjolras kept talking as his eyes followed the drunkard until he reached a man who stood a few rows from the front. People mainly kept the two men from sight, but Enjolras could tell that they were arguing. 

Then all of a sudden Grantaire was punching the guy in the nose and chaos was erupting. Bahorel helped Enjolras jump of the stage safely and the two of them sprinted toward the group’s agreed meeting place if anything went wrong: the Corinth. People pushed against them on all sides. Enjolras stumbled as someone stepped on his heel, and he got an elbow in his side. The two men rushed into the bar and closed the door, breathing heavily.

“I’m going to go find the others,” Bahorel told him before disappearing through the crowd. He texted the others, telling them it was a code purple, before looking out the window for his friends. His phone buzzed as he paced, but he refused to look at it until he laid eyes on the others. After a few minutes and several calming breaths on Enjolras’s part, Bahorel’s large form parted through the crowd, creating a path for Combeferre, who was helping Joly navigate through the crowd with his bad leg. Bahorel was carrying a bundle that, based on the visible ebony curls, had to be Grantaire. 

Enjolras’s blood boiled. He was already going to kill him for ruining the protest, but if he was passed out because of inebriation, Enjolras was going to raise him from the dead just to kill him again. He pulled out his phone to see what was happening in the group chat. 

Chetta: We’ll be home sooner than expected, about 20 minutes, want us to meet you at the Corinth? 

Feuilly: Do you need me and Courf to come?

He answered their questions and told them they didn’t need any backup.

Chetta: We’re still coming anyway, wait for us

Enjolras pocketed his phone and walked over to where Joly was fussing over Grantaire and Combeferre was fussing over Bahorel. 

“You good, Enj?” Bahorel asked. The tissues pressed to his bleeding nose made it take Enjolras a few seconds to work out what he had said.

“Yeah. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

And now, Enjolras had to deal with Grantaire. 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras asked through gritted teeth, “why did you decide to ruin our protest?”

“What do you mean, Enjolras?” Joly asked after Grantaire didn’t respond. 

“Are you drunk?” Enjolras asked, ignoring the med student. “You’re a complete mess when you show up, you punch a guy, and then you aren’t even capable of running a few blocks! Did you think of anyone but yourself? You caused mass panic which resulted in multiple injuries and then made your friends spend longer in the chaos, risking their lives, to save you. Do you know how selfish you are? How much of a coward you are? You ruin everything, not just in your own life but in everyone else’s, too. Why can’t you even try to be a good person? Why-” The rest of Enjolras’s rant was cut off by Grantaire jumping up and dashing out of the pub, stumbling slightly when trying to maneuver through the tables. 

Enjolras looked back at the other two. Bahorel scowled at him while Joly looked practically livid.

“You should get out of here Enjolras,” Bahorel told him threateningly.

“But the others-”

“No,” Joly said, ignoring Enjolras and instead looking at Bahorel, “Let him face her.” 

Enjolras just stared at the other two as they had a silent argument. Who was ‘her’? Musichetta would be mad, sure, but she wouldn’t deal with him until later so it didn’t matter if he left or not. 

“Who-” Barhorel’s glare cut him off. They sat in stony silence, waiting for Jehan and his crew to return from whatever errand they had. Eventually, Jehan’s beat up Honda Civic pulled into view. Enjolras watched as Jehan exited, followed by Bossuet in the passenger’s seat, then Musichetta, and, to Enjolras’s surprise, a mystery child. 

“Hi, Enj,” Jehan chirped as he walked in, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. Bossuet walked over and talked to Joly, meaning the med student’s eyes finally stopped boring holes in Enjolras’s skull. Musichetta remained by the door, hovering behind the kid, who was now looking around the room for something. 

“Who is this?” Enjolras asked Jehan. 

“This is Bee. She/her pronouns.” That didn’t really give any reason for the girl to be here. Bee looked to be about eight years old. Her waist length red hair led one to believe that she was related to Jehan, but her hair was darker, her face less freckled, and their faces were altogether completely different. 

The girl looked at Enjolras with cold, dark eyes that made him feel as though he were being looked through instead of at. 

“Where’s Grantaire?” she asked slowly, with the same tone and gritted teeth that Enjolras had when talking to the man in question.

“Gone. Why?”

“That’s none of your business, Enjolras.” Said man blinked in shock, for once completely speechless. 

“Why isn’t he here, Joly?” The girl’s voice was softer and sadder when no longer talking to Enjolras. 

“Enjolras,” Joly was still clearly mad at him, “why don’t you explain what caused Grantaire to leave?” 

Enjolras summoned all of his energy and launched into a fiery, passionate speech. “I merely scolded him for turning up drunk at a protest and punching someone, causing mass chaos.”

Bee looked unimpressed. “Well, I can understand his decision to withhold information, but by now he’s used to your ignorance, so tell me what you specifically said.”

“It’s a bit of a blur, but I addressed his obvious tendency toward selfishness, cowardice, and refusal to become a better person. I did say that he ruins the lives of everyone around him, but I’ll admit that one was a bit out of line, and-” Enjolras was cut off by a small fist hitting him with surprising force square in the nose. 

“Guys?” Enjolras pleaded as the little girl prepared for another attack. Chetta halfheartedly stopped Bee’s fist.

“You’ll hurt your knuckles and we might get kicked out,” she told the younger girl with a stern yet fond look. 

Enjolras held a napkin to his now bleeding nose. Joly walked toward him only to pass him by without a second thought and examine the eight year old’s hand. Nobody looked sympathetic toward their leader. What was worse, though, was the disappointed look in Jehan’s eyes. Whatever, he’d worry about feelings later, for now, he would just try to figure out what’s going on.

“I assume you know Grantaire well,” he said around the bloodied tissue that was held to his face. Yes, he guessed that this girl was Grantaire’s sister, but he didn’t say anything in case he was wrong. 

“I’m his sister.” Her tone was icy.

“He never mentioned you.”

“I can’t imagine that you’d listen to him if he tried.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m staying at your apartment for a little while.”

“Why? Why wasn’t I told about this?”

“None of your business, you already lost majority vote, and you let Bahorel’s sister stay once so there shouldn’t have been much of a problem.”

Fair enough. He decided to take this conversation a different direction. “You do know that your brother is an alcoholic, so why was it justified that you punch me?”

The girl sighed wearily. “Look, I can’t tell you anything about Grantaire, that’s for him to do, but I can tell you about me. I’ve seen what violence can do and therefore make an effort to avoid it. Obviously I have my moments of weakness,” she continued as Enjolras opened his mouth to argue, “but I try. Seeing as Grantaire and I grew up together, one can conclude that he has similar experiences and that he, therefore, would also avoid physical combat.” Did normal kids talk like that?

“So you’re saying he was provoked.”

The little girl rolled her eyes. “Now he uses his brain. For future references, maybe consider all the facts before jumping to a conclusion. Though you may think I’m being biased, I can tell you that my brother is without a doubt the bravest and most selfless man I know, even if he has his weaknesses. And you have no right to tell anyone some of the things you told Grantaire, understood?”

Enjolras used all of his will power to not immediately stand up straight and respond ‘yes ma’am.’ “Um, yeah,” he said eloquently instead. 

“Can we find him?” Bee asked Musichetta, her voice immediately going from angry teacher to a sad little girl looking for a lost stuffed animal. 

“Of course, honey,” Chetta responded, stroking the girl’s hair. She glared at Enjolras over the redhead. “If you’ll excuse us.” She grabbed Bee’s hand and marched out of the pub, followed by Jehan. 

Instead of one of the girls sitting in the front next to Jehan, they both crowded into the back seat. Through the tinted window, Enjolras could see the older girl give the younger a kiss on the forehead. The girl didn’t seem nearly as intimidating curled up next to Chetta. 

When Enjolras, Joly, Combeferre, and Bahorel got back to their house, Grantaire’s sister sat on the steps, flanked by Musichetta and Jehan. 

“Is he gone?” Joly asked. The girl nodded glumly. 

“You can still go inside,” Enjolras pointed out. 

The girl didn’t look at him as she answered, “They said they needed to finish.”

Before Enjolras could ask who, Feuilly and a very not sick looking Courfeyrac appeared at the door. Bossuet followed them and went to stand next to Joly, and therefore as far away as possible from drill that Courfeyrac was holding. 

“What-?” Enjolras began, but was cut off by Courfeyrac.

“We’ve finished! Welcome to our most humble abode.” The girl leaned away from him slightly as he escorted her through the door, but she had a small smile on his face so at least she wouldn’t kill him.

“Through here is the kitchen.” Courfeyrac had started a tour. “It’s connected to this little sitting area and it has this huge table. Down here-” they walked down the stairs to the basement- “we have our living room where we have movie night. Though there are Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s rooms.” The basement had been one big space when they moved in, but they had put up shower curtains on a wire to set aside a room that Joly and Bossuet shared, and then a separate room for Musichetta to use if she wanted.

The crew walked back up the stairs to the main floor and then up to the first. Even the people who had lived there for an entire year (so everyone except Bee) followed, eager/apprehensive to see Courfeyrac’s addition. 

“Up here we have another sitting area,” Courfeyrac continued, “and to the right in here is the library and Comberre and Enjolras’s room.” The large room full of books was also divided by a row of shower curtains. 

“To the left is the room shared by myself and the lovely Jehan,” Courfeyrac gestured to a room that had wires criss-crossing over the ceiling with various mobiles and lanterns hanging from it and walls covered in multiple years worth of dog calendars and other pictures, “which is next to the room shared by Feuilly and Bahorel. And up here-” the group walked up another flight of steps and into the attack- “we have the art studio to the left.” The room was unfurnished and the rough wooden floors were spattered with paint.

“And finally, to the right, we have your new room.” The entire attic was Grantaire’s space. Unlike the others, he didn’t have to share a room since he agreed to live in the one room no one really wanted. 

Enjolras hadn’t been up there since Grantaire moved in almost a year ago. The room was split in half with shower curtains like so many of the others, but these were decorated with little cartoon frogs instead of being a plain color. Courfeyrac informed the group that the curtains were new additions to the room. It was quite obvious who had done the drilling for what each side of the wire; a sloppy hole surrounded by various attempts said Courfeyrac while the other was perfect. 

“So we tried to make a sort of common area for the two of you,” Feuilly finally joined the conversation, “and we brought up an old futon from a dorm room. The other side of the curtain is also divided in two.” The group slipped past the right side of the curtain into what was meant to be Bee’s room. It was closed in on two sides by the cheerful frogs and by bare wall on the other two. Her room was a fourth of the attic space, leaving an additional fourth for Grantaire’s room since the common area was about half. The rough wood of the walls had a beautiful mural of a forest in the spring time, clearly the work of Feuilly. 

“We don’t have another bed yet, but stole a bunch of pillows and blankets to make a nest for you. Or R can sleep there and you can have the futon.” Courfeyrac’s voice sounded a bit less cheerful. 

“Why would Grantaire need the futon?” Enjolras asked, very confused by this conversation. Why would someone need two-

“Don’t worry about it, Enjolras,” Feuilly said calmly, cutting off whatever Bee was about to say. 

“Wait,” Enjolras started, causing everyone to visibly hesitate, “you weren’t really sick were you.” Everyone relaxed with a collective sigh in exasperation. 

“Um, yeah, Enj. I thought that was fairly obvious.” Courfeyrac looked at the other man as though he’d grown another head. 

“So you two knew she was coming.”

“Yes. Obviously. Grantaire asked us to set up a room, though I think we went overboard compared to his expectations.”

“And so did Jehan, Bossuet, and Chetta know since they picked her up. Why did you two know?” He gestured to Joly and Bahorel. 

Joly, who obviously still hadn’t forgiven him, said, “It isn’t any of your business why I know but it may have something to do with me actually being his friend.”

Bahorel was a little more calm. “I asked Grantaire what was going on and he told me.”

“Did you know?” asked Enjolras, turning to the last of the adults in the room.

“Well, yes. We had to talk about expenses with another person staying,” replied Combeferre calmly. 

“So I was the only one not notified about this?”

“Yep,” Bee said with no sympathy whatsoever. “Since you weren’t helping with anything and you didn’t ask, he really didn’t need to. Your the leader of the Les Amis, not his life.” Enjolras was speechless, trying to figure out what to do with this information. Part of him was… disappointed? 

“The room looks amazing guys, thank you.” Bee smiled sweetly and genuinely at Courf and Feuilly, who grinned back. Enjolras didn’t know what her standards were since the room was competely empty except for piles of stuff like clothes, books, pillows, toiletries, and blankets the others had pitched in, and the curtains were crooked. Though the art was beautiful, Enjolras supposed. 

“Anything for our dear artist’s little sister,” Courf grinned as he ruffled her hair. The ducked away from his hand with a scowl though Courfeyrac didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, Bethea,” Jehan said chirped.

“Yes, Jean Prouvaire,” Bee answered, looking unamused.

“That’s not my name, silly,” Jehan chuckled. Bee gave him a pointed look.

“Okay, fine. Bee,” Jehan amended, “do you want to pick out a movie to watch tonight while we wait for Grantaire to get back?”

“Can’t you just call him?” Enjolras cut in. He was met by a chorus of curt no’s.

The group prepared to trek down the three flights of stairs to the basement when they heard the front door open, meaning only one thing: Grantaire was back.


	2. Enjolras Actually Says Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two siblings finally reunite whilst Enjolras gets yelled at by Joly. Enjolras then tries to be kinder to Grantaire, leading to him learning some new things about both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mention of death (no one actually dies), and Joly is scary

As soon as she heard the door, Bee sprinted past the others. The others, however, having longer legs, were right on her heels, running down the stairs with considerably less grace than the little girl. 

Grantaire was grabbing a sweatshirt from his hook in the mudroom, clearly freezing and sopping wet from the rain outside. He looked up with tired, red-rimmed eyes at the sound of feet thundering down the stairs. Enjolras brought up the rear in the group, reluctant to see Grantaire after being scolded by his sister, and reached the main level in time to see Grantaire all but collapse to his knees while his little sister nearly tackled him. 

“I missed you so much, Bumblebee,” he whispered, stroking her hair. 

Bee managed to mumble, “I missed you, too” from where her face was buried in his neck.

The two eventually pulled away. Grantaire remained kneeling as he looked into his sister’s eyes with concern.

“What happened at school? What’s the matter?” 

Bee looked down at her feet. The confident, aggressive demeanor that Enjolras had so quickly become familiar with was gone, and in its place was a scared girl looking for help and comfort. 

“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I don’t understand what’s happening.” She quickly scrubbed at her eyes, trying to hide that she was crying. 

Grantaire was about to respond when he finally realized that he had an audience. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he mumbled to the little girl. He kissed her forehead and then got weakly to his feet and started leading his sister by the hand through the crowd of onlookers. 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras blurted out, “I’m sorry.” Everyone else looked at him as though he had grown another head. 

“Who’re you and what have you done with Enjolras?” he heard Musichetta mutter. 

He hadn’t planned on saying anything. He had never once willingly apologized to Grantaire after an argument, but he wasn’t apologizing to the Grantaire that he knew but instead the caring older brother that was a complete stranger to him. 

Grantaire looked up in shock, but quickly schooled his features into a look of apathy and nonchalance. “It’s alright, Apollo.” 

At this, Bee tugged on his arm. “It’s not okay!” She said, exasperated. “What he said was uncalled for and based on speculation. He-” 

“-I’m sorry about that,” Enjolras cut Bee off, earning him a glare. “I should have asked about your side of the story, and I’m sure you had a reason for your actions. And I had no right to say those things to you.” 

“What happened with you…” Grantaire trailed off as his gaze went from Enjolras’s black eye to the young redhead. “What happened to your eye?” 

Enjolras might have come up with an excuse (more for his own pride than to protect Miss Fun-sized-anger-management-issues), but the girl looked so damn smug that he had to rat on her. 

“Ask your sister.” 

Grantaire crouched in front of his sister in order to make eye contact. “Did you hit Enjolras?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding very proud of herself. 

“Okay,” Grantaire sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave himself a moment before looking at the girl with the most serious expression Enjolras had ever seen on his face. “What did we say about hitting?” 

“That there are better, less destructive, and more productive ways to express anger,” she recited while looking at the ground, though seemed to be more out of annoyance at getting scolded than from shame. 

“So what should you have done instead?” 

The girl groaned in annoyance, but muttered, “Used my words.” 

“What specifically can you say next time something like this happens?” 

“Enjolras,” Bee said, looking up at said young man with sincere eyes, “you can shove your presumptuous opinions up you conceited-” 

Grantaire clapped a hand over her mouth. “Swearing makes you sound unintelligent,” he told her. 

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Bee said, scowling. “And if we’re referring to time efficiency, then technically talking to him would be less efficient.” 

“I want you to grow up to be a good person, honey. And good people try to avoid violence whenever possible. 

“We’ll talk about this again another time,” he sighed, resuming his climb up the stairs. “In the meantime, you don’t need to fight my battles for me.” 

“If you stood up for yourself, I wouldn’t fight your battles.” Bee pulled her arm away from her brother. 

Grantaire sighed for, like, the tenth time in the last two minutes. “I was just going to address it later is all.”

Bee looked sceptical. “Really? You were going to tell them the real reason you punched that guy?” 

“You weren’t there, how could you know what happened?” 

“Because I know you. And anyone who knows you wouldn’t think you would use violence unless absolutely necessary.” She shot a sideways glance at Enjolras. 

“Fine,” Grantaire huffed, looking directly at Enjolras, “he had a gun.” 

“He what?!” screeched Joly. 

“R, you can’t go after people like that on your own!” exclaimed Bahorel. 

“Why can’t I just have one peaceful protest?” sighed Enjolras. 

“I was a little pressed for time guys,” Grantaire told Joly and Bahorel, ignoring Enjolras. “Would you rather Enjolras get shot?” 

“Well-” 

“You don’t get a say in this,” Grantaire cut Bee off. 

Enjolras scowled at the eight year old who smirked back at him. 

“Enough you two,” Grantaire scolded them. The universe had truly flipped for Grantaire to be the one scolding Enjolras. “Let’s go upstairs, Bumblebee. You’ve earned yourself an early bedtime.” 

The other college students watched the siblings head upstairs, calling out ‘good night’s before silence settled over them that was only broken when Enjolras eloquently said, “What the hell is happening?” 

“Now, Enj,” Courfeyrac mock scolded, “swearing makes you sound unintelligent.” 

“What’s happening,” Combeferre calmly told him, “is that you were wrong and someone who has the right to put you in your place did exactly that.” 

“And that person was an eight year old girl,” Courfeyrac added with a smirk. 

“And you’re seeing a side of Grantaire that you didn’t think could possibly exist,” Jehan told him lightly.

“So how long is she going to be here?” Enjolras asked, slightly scared about the answer. 

“As long as she needs,” Joly told him icily. Enjolras hoped he didn’t look as scared as he felt. 

“None of us are capable of looking after a child,” he tried to argue. It wasn’t a lie. The house permanently smelled like smoke from various cooking incidences, they were on their third coffee table, there had been two occasions when entire floors were flooded, glitter was still found on everyone’s clothing despite it being banned over a year ago, they had to replace the TV because of an accident involving a Wii remote, and they had so far had to shoo three different birds out of the house and one of them was a goose. There were many more examples. 

“I don’t really think she needs much looking after,” giggled Jehan, making Enjolras scowl. “Besides, R said he’d take care of everything.” 

“So he’ll fix my eye?” Enjolras mumbled. 

“He’ll take care of the problems that come from having children around, not the problems that come from being a terrible person,” Joly told him scathingly. 

Joly’s behavior was really throwing Enjolras for a loop. The two had always gotten along alright, excepting the moments Joly would scold him when his and Grantaire’s fights got out of hand. But in all those incidents, Joly had been quick to forgive and never yelled. 

“Why are you so mad at me?” he asked. 

Joly gave a harsh laugh. “Can’t imagine why, Enjolras. Why on earth would I have an issue with you insulting one of my best friends who is truly trying to be better by discrediting any improvement he’s made?” 

“But Grantaire forgave me,” Enjolras supplies weakly. 

“In my opinion, Grantaire always forgives too easily, especially when it comes to you since-” Bossuet cut Joly off with a pointed cough. 

“C’mon, Joly,” Enjolras sighed, “it was an honest misunderstanding. He was drunk so it could have been impulsive-” 

“He wasn’t drunk.” 

At least Enjolras wasn’t the only one that seemed surprised by this information. “Joly, this is Grantaire we’re talking about. I know he’s your friend but you have to be realistic.” 

Then, for the first time in all the years Enjolras had known him, Joly lost it. With a growl of frustration, the older man marched up to Enjolras and yanked him down by his shirt so he could make eye contact. 

“For once in your life shut up and listen. I didn’t spend the last week watching Grantaire cry and hallucinate and worrying about if he’s going to die so that he could be sober for when his sister is here just for you to tell him he’s a screw up! What if he had went out and gotten drunk! What if the depression that comes with alcohol withdrawal combined with your fat mouth caused him to-” Joly’s voice cracked. He let go of Enjolras and was immediately wrapped in the arms of both Musichetta and Bossuet. 

Everyone else was silent and slightly pale as they watched the two lead a now crying Joly down the stairs to their shared floor. Silently, the others dispersed to their rooms as well, leaving a completely frozen Enjolras alone at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Come on, Enjolras,” Combeferre called from the landing of the stairs. 

Enjolras was lost in his own mind as he headed to his shared bedroom. When he got there, he didn’t even get ready for bed in favor of staring in shock at the floor. He was unable to think about or do anything else when Joly’s outburst kept replaying in his mind. 

“What am I going to do?” Enjolras asked Comberre hopelessly. 

Combeferre sighed and put down the book he had been reading before bed for the last few days. “You obviously don’t know Grantaire very well so I think you need to work on that. As for Joly, I think that he will calm down eventually. He’s had a stressful week and I’m guessing that with the state Grantaire was in, he learned some things that would make them closer friends and him more protective.” 

“I can’t get to know him if his sister is going to be there all the time. I’m not risking another injury and she probably wouldn’t let me within a three foot radius of him.” Yes, he was slightly concerned for his own health, but he also was trying to find an excuse for not engaging in more conversations (that would end in fights) with Grantaire than normal.” 

“I think you’d best learn to get along with both. Bee is friendly toward anyone who is kind to Grantaire, and Grantaire is protective of her. So, if you’re doing it right, you won’t have any problems with either, you just will potentially have to come to a truce with her first. And as for you getting punched again, I think it might be good that you be supervised when conversing, and when she is the one supervising, you will be well aware when you cross the line.” 

With that, Combeferre turned off the lights. Enjolras tried to fall asleep, but his mind was whirring and refused to be calmed. He decided to head back downstairs with his laptop. While he was awake he might as well finish one of his econ essays. However, he soon realized that every time he tried to think, the words in his head changed to Joly’s rant or Bee’s scoldings. 

Why was this girl coming to their house in the middle of the school year? Why had no one told him that Grantaire was sobering up? The arguments wouldn’t have happened if he’d been better informed of Grantaire’s new found strides toward self improvement, So was this really all his fault? 

Enjolras groaned and laid down with his laptop on his chest. A feeling of guilt rose in him and refused to be ignored like it usually was. He had meant to yell at the Grantaire that showed up to meeting drunk and would heckle their beliefs loudly from the corner, not the Grantaire that preached nonviolence to small children with patience. 

He sighed. ‘If this girl being here for one day caused this much drama, she’s going to be a thorn in my side for the next few months’ was Enjolras’s last conscious thought. 

He really wished that she had waited longer before proving him right, though, as he was woken up at four in the morning (two hours after he had gone to bed) to something hitting his head and then the sound of crunching a few minutes later. 

He sat up groggily, barely managing to catch his laptop before it slipped onto the floor. He had once again fallen asleep while doing homework, meaning Combeferre was going to once again lecture him. The crunching sound caught his attention once again and he turned toward the sound. 

Bee was perched on one of the counter tops in the kitchen, happily eating cereal straight out of the box. She had traded her worn uniform that belonged to a private boarding school across the country (Enjolras had looked up the seal on the blazer) for a large sweater that Jehan owned worn as a dress with the sleeves rolled up several times over a pair of fraying shorts. 

Deciding to heed Combeferre’s advice, Enjolras got up and walked toward the little girl. 

“That’s a really late midnight snack you’ve got there.” It was then that Enjolras remembered he didn’t know how to talk to children. 

“That’s a really nice case of bedhead you’ve got there” Bee told him, mimicking his tone and still not looking up. “It’s actually an early breakfast.” 

“Don’t let Joly see you eating straight from the box,” he told her as he leaned against the counter next to her whilst trying to pat down the pile of fluff that was his hair. 

“Will do.” Awkward silence followed. 

“So what are you doing up so early?” he asked. 

“Taire-” she started just to be cut by said man. 

“Yeah Bumblebee?” he asked absentmindedly while rifling around bag. “Oh, hey Enjolras. What’re you doing up? You aren’t exactly a morning person. I hope the red headed Tasmanian devil didn’t wake you.” 

Most people who met Enjolras usually took him for a person who woke up early and then went for a run and finished some homework early, but in reality he was more of a wake up at ten with his face on his keyboard sort of person. 

“Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t her. Something woke me up before.” 

“Actually that was me,” Bee told him through a mouthful of cereal. “Your face was typing your essay. I guess you could say you were typing the shape of an L with forehead.” By now, Enjolras was used to waking up and finding a billion pages of single letters that changed when he turned in his sleep. He would most likely delete the entire paper instead of attempting to remove all the unnecessary pages. Heaven knows he wasn’t that far along anyway. 

“Good one,” Grantaire told her while Enjolras groaned. He couldn’t stop thinking of the day that Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Jehan blasted ‘All Star’ on repeat for hours on end. 

“Thanks for doing that,” Enjolras told her. He couldn’t help the tone of surprise that leaked into his voice. 

Bee nodded and then stared at him with an unreadable that made Enjolras feel as though his very thoughts were being read. Her stare was only broken when Grantaire began to talk. 

“Now,” he said while he turned to look at his sister with the same serious face from last night that Enjolras would never get used to, “get down from there, you know better. And get some milk or something, there’s too much sugar in that for it to be the only thing you eat for breakfast.” 

Bee whined but did as she was told, surprisingly. 

“So where are you two going?” Enjolras asked. “I didn’t know you ever got up earlier than noon. 

“I’ve got work. I sleep until noon when I get back,” Grantaire informed him as he ran a comb through his wild curls. 

“Is it for the same company as your afternoon job?” 

“No, I have multiple jobs.” 

Enjolras pauses for a moment. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Yeah,” Grantaire replied shortly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

It took Enjolras a moment to realize that Grantaire wasn’t talking to him and instead the girl trying to sneak outside. 

“No,” she deadpanned, then whined as she caught the comb that Grantaire tossed to her. “It’s just going to get tangled again.” 

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as Bee combed her hair and Grantaire prepared a sandwich that he put in his bag. 

“You know, it’s fine if you leave her here. We can keep an eye on her,” Enjolras offered after a while. It was bad enough that Grantaire had to get up this early, much less a second grader. 

“Maybe I’ll take up your offer eventually, but right now I’d feel better keeping her with me. Thanks anyway,” Grantaire answered, not looking up from the knot he had begun helping Bee comb out of her hair. 

“You’re a really good older brother, R,” Enjolras said quietly after watching the dark haired man gently try to tame his sister’s hair for a bit. 

“Thanks,” Grantaire said with a soft, genuine smile. 

The siblings left and Enjolras was left alone with his thoughts as he went upstairs to go back to sleep. He was consumed with guilt, which seemed to be a common theme in recent events, because he had scolded Grantaire for only taking a few afternoon shifts but still having time to sleep until noon almost every day. 

He was having trouble processing the fact he had had a friendly conversation Grantaire and he actually enjoyed it. In under twenty four hours, Grantaire had gone from his main annoyance to someone who Enjolras wanted to become friends with. 

Enjolras had called him R for the first time, and had received a smile that wasn’t mocking. All of Enjolras’s racing thoughts were silenced when the image of that smile appeared in Enjolras’s mind. He fell asleep again, but this time with butterflies in his stomach for some reason.


	3. Enjolras tries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras tries to repair his relationship with Grantaire, but it seems like every time he tries do something nice, some crisis has to occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some warnings for this chapter: panic attack and minor violence

Enjolras set his alarm so that he would be making breakfast by the time Grantaire returned. By the time he set the slightly burnt eggs on the table, he heard the front door open and shut quietly.   
“Morning,” Enjolras greeted Grantaire. The other man simply nodded before carrying his sister, who was fast asleep in his arms, over to the couch. Enjolras waited nervously as Grantaire wandered back into the kitchen.   
“I, um,” Enjolras stuttered. This was going to be awkward. “I made you breakfast.”  
“Why?”  
“As an apology.”  
“Oh.” Grantaire made no move to sit down, so Enjolras figured he’d lead. He sat at the end of the table and studied the various dents and paint splatters instead of looking at Grantaire. The sound of a chair being dragged slightly across the floor was the only indication the other man had taken the offer.   
‘What do people talk about at breakfast?’ Enjolras thought, panicking.   
“How was work?” Enjolras hoped his cringe at his own statement didn’t show.   
“Fine.” Enjolras noticed he sounded tired. Had he always sounded like that?   
“Do you work later today?” Grantaire shook his head.   
“You should take a nap or something, you look exhausted.”  
“Yeah, well. I’ve something to take care of.” Grantaire nodded his head toward where his sister slept with a leg swung over the arm of the couch.   
“We all are going to be here, I think we can handle her between the eight of us.”   
Grantaire sighed, but then nodded slowly. “I’ll send her down when she wakes up. Come get me if anything happens. I’m serious.” He looked pointedly at Enjolras, most likely referring to his stubborn refusal to admit defeat.   
Enjolras was speechless for a moment. Grantaire? Serious?  
“Okay,” he finally managed to say. Grantaire’s gaze lingered for a moment before he got up to put his plate in a sink. With a suppressed sigh, Enjolras remembered it was his turn to do the dishes. Though, he supposed he probably deserved to do the dishes everyday to make up for all the times he got on Grantaire for not doing them when it was his turn. It was odd how quickly Enjolras went from saying “chores are more important than a nap” to “please take a nap and I’ll take care of everything.”   
Enjolras watched as Grantaire he went to carry his sister to her room. 

“So our rendez-vous point will be out usual one at the Corinth-” Enjolras stopped talking as a flash of red caught his attention.   
“Hey, Bee,” he greeted the little girl. “Do you want to join us?” She glared at him suspiciously while the rest of the Amis looked at him like he had just said the country should have a total monarchy.   
Once they had returned to the meeting, Bee slowly perched herself in front of the coffee table and started to color a picture that Grantaire had obviously outlined for her.   
“How likely are we to face opposition,” Feuilly asked later in the meeting as he absentmindedly worked on more coloring sheets for Grantaire’s little sister.   
“We’ll probably get opposition, we always do. I don’t know if it will be violent opposition or not. We’ll just follow the usual plan and signal if we see a gun,” Enjolras answered.   
“Are there normally violent outbreaks at your protest?” Bee, who had been ignoring them for the past hour, asked.   
“Just some minor ones. A black eye here or there. The few times there was a bigger threat were handled without major injury,” Enjolras answered, finding it difficult to meet those wide, dark grey eyes.   
“Has there been a gun more than once?”   
“No?”  
“Don’t lie to me, Enjolras,” Bee said through gritted teeth.   
Enjolras gulped and nodded slowly. The students watched in silence as a flurry of emotions crossed the girl’s face.   
Enjolras jumped as the girl suddenly gasped as though she was drowning and sprinted towards the front door. Jehan, who had been standing behind the couch, dashed after her and caught her around the waist before she could escape.   
“Let me go!” the girl shrieked as the started violently twisting, trying to get out of Jehan’s grasp. She beat a fist against his chest when she that didn’t work. Jehan got on his knees wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pinning her arms down, while the other pinned her legs against his own to prevent her from kicking.   
After watching the girl continue to thrash for a moment, Enjolras broke out of his reverie and bolted toward the stairs. By the time he got to the attic he was out of breath, but he pushed on and flung open the door to Grantaire’s room so hard it banged against the wall.   
Grantaire jolted awake with a gasp and scrambled back until he was pressed against the headboard.   
“You need to come downstairs,” Enjolras told him between heavy breaths. “Bee’s having a fit or something.”   
At the mention of his sister’s name, Grantaire, who had been looking at Enjolras with wide unseeing and panicked eyes, stumbled up out of bed and toward the door. Grantaire only made it down one flight of stairs before his knees gave out. Luckily, Enjolras was close enough to grab his arm and keep him upright. Enjolras half carried the other student over to the couch of the small first level sitting room and then sat down next to him.   
“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked gently. The other boy let out a shaky breath that turned into a sob at the end. Enjolras didn’t do anything, afraid to touch him, as Grantaire put his head in his hands and tried to control his breathing, which only got shakier and started to sound more like sobs.   
Enjolras started to panic when the unsteady breathing started to sound strangled and weezy.   
“Shit,” Enjolras said out loud to himself, “what did Joly say in panic attack training?”   
He got to his knees in front of Grantaire and gently grabbed the other boy’s shaking hands. Grantaire flinched away a bit, but somewhere underneath the panicked haze in his eyes, he seemed to recognize Enjolras and relaxed a bit.   
“You need to control your breathing, Grantaire. Try to match mine.”  
Enjolras took deep, calm breaths and gently stroked the palms of Grantaire’s hands. As his breathing started to slow, Grantaire started crying more, despite his best efforts to stop.   
“It’s okay, Grantaire,” Enjolras said over and over again. He let go of one of Grantaire’s hands in order to grab some tissues for him. Grantaire hid his face in his hands for a bit but then finally looked up with more focused eyes and steadier breathing. His eyes flicked to Enjolras and then away quickly, and he wiped his nose and cheeks, looking embarrassed.   
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, R,” Enjolras told him quickly. Grantaire looked like he was about to respond, but then a look of realization dawned on him.   
Enjolras stumbled to his feet to follow Grantaire, who sprinted down the stairs on still shaky legs. 

Bee had somehow ended up on Joly’s lap, who was humming to her and rocking her back and forth slowly.   
Grantaire ignored the looks of concern shot his way as he made his way over to his sister, who continued to stare blankly at the wall.   
“Bumblebee,” Grantaire said as he reached for his sister’s hand. She yanked her hand back and burrowed into Joly’s shoulder. Said man shot Grantaire an apologetic look and turned the girl so that she faced her brother.   
“Use your words,” Joly prompted gently.   
Bee looked at the ground for a few moments, taking deep breaths. “You-” she started, but stopped when her voice cracked. She took a few more breaths to compose herself.   
“You’ve been almost getting killed the whole time you’ve been here?” she asked quietly. “I thought the day I came here was a one-time deal. How many times have you risked your life?”   
“We’ve always been pretty safe,” Grantaire said weakly. His sister looked unimpressed.   
“They said there’ve been multiple incidences involving guns.”  
Grantaire sighed. “Yeah, I know. But I couldn’t just watch them all leave and not know what was going on. They’re my family.”  
“I’m your family, too. And you’re gonna leave me. You’re all I have Taire, and you’re gonna leave me and I don’t want you to but I left you so I guess it’s fair but…” Bee couldn’t manage any more words as she started to cry.   
Grantaire gathered the girl into his arms and rocked her slowly. With his hands now free, Joly started to hand the pair tissues.   
“You didn’t leave me, Bumblebee. Not now or ever. I’m sorry I scared you, but I promise I will do anything in my power to be able to take care of you.” Grantaire rested his chin on the top of his sister’s head.   
The rest of the students started to wander back to their rooms as silence settled. Eventually, only Enjolras was left, and though he would have liked nothing more than to run and leave the uncomfortable feeling in his gut behind, he knew he needed to stay if he was going to start making reparations.   
Grantaire started to struggle to his feet, his sister asleep in his arms just as she had been that morning.  
“Need help?” Enjolras asked, nearly causing Grantaire to fall backwards again in surprise.   
When Grantaire nodded, Enjolras scooped up the girl bridal-style and waited for Grantaire to get to his feet. Even though he had a wiry build, Enjolras was a lot stronger than people expected, so holding the eight-year-old was no struggle.   
“Maybe I should carry her upstairs,” Enjolras suggested when Grantaire moved to take her back, staring pointedly at the artist’s shaking knees. He got a nod in reply.   
They made their way up the stairs silently. Grantaire held open the door to the attic and then held back the curtain that formed a separate room for Bee. Enjolras set the girl onto the small, worn bed and walked back out.   
“You don’t have to come on Friday,” Enjolras told Grantaire once they were back in the little common area of the attic.   
“That’s not the first time you’ve said that,” Grantaire said as he attempted to try to smile jauntily. The smile fell flat.   
“I understand this time, R.”   
“You’ve never called me that.” Grantaire sat down on the old couch and gestured for Enjolras to do the same.  
“What?”  
“You’ve never called me ‘R’ before today.”  
“Oh,” Enjolras blushed a bit. “Well, even I can recognize that it’s a good pun.” The two boys shared a weak smile.   
“So what are you going to do?” Enjolras asked after a few moments of silence that were both awkward and comfortable.   
“I’ll just have to bring her with. Make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.” Enjolras nodded distractedly.   
“Did she get sent home for misbehaving or did she have some sort of a mental breakdown?” As soon as the question slipped from his mouth, Enjolras started to backtrack. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.”  
“It’s fine, Enj,” Grantaire said with a smile that had too much bitterness to be comforting. “She’d been having behavioral problems, apparently. I haven’t really had a chance to look into it.”  
“Maybe she should see a therapist.”  
“Maybe.” In the past, when Grantaire used that tone, Enjolras would write it off as him not caring, but that couldn’t apply to his sister, right?  
“What’s the matter?” Enjolras didn’t really expect Grantaire to answer him, but he was surprised just like he was during every encounter with Grantaire the last couple days.  
“We can’t afford it,” the artist mumbled as he looked at his shoes.   
“Doesn’t… Doesn’t your sister go to a boarding school?” Enjolras made a conscious effort to keep out the judgement that would normally creep into his voice right about now.   
“She’s there on scholarship,” Grantaire said, pride still shining in his eyes through all of the turmoil.  
“That’s amazing,” Enjolras said softly. Grantaire hummed and dug out his old iPhone from his pocket.  
“Want to watch some cat videos?”   
Enjolras blinked. “Sure?”   
If you had told the Enjolras of a few days ago that he would soon be curled up next to Grantaire on a sofa watching cat videos together while Enjolras’ heart did little flips, he would have laughed because surely there couldn’t be an event dramatic enough to change a relationship so fast. Amazing what getting punched in the face can do to your life.   
About halfway through their third video, Enjolras finally voiced one of the many questions prying on his mind. “Do you want to talk about what happened in the sitting room this afternoon?”  
“Not really,” Grantaire said quietly. Instead of getting annoyed, as the old Enjolras would have done, the blond felt a surge of protectiveness for the other boy.  
“That’s okay,” he replied gently before pushing play on their video. He felt Grantaire start to relax next to him, and next thing he knew the other boy was sleeping on his shoulder.   
Enjolras quietly put Grantaire’s phone on top of a piled up hoodie and stood up. He gently lifted the sleeping boy up and grabbed the blanket that had been underneath him. It took a lot of effort, but eventually Grantaire was sleeping peacefully under a blanket that was just as worn as everything else he owned. 

The next day, Enjolras made sure to be awake at an unholy hour in order to see Grantaire off. When he walked into the kitchen, a disheveled Bee grunted at him from her perch on top of the counter.  
“Good morning to you too,” he answered.   
“What’re you doing up?” she asked through a mouthful of cereal.   
Enjolras just shrugged and turned away from her intense glare to rifle aimlessly through the contents of the fridge.   
“Bee, you can’t wear the same clothes from yesterday,” came Grantaire’s voice from the stairs. Then a pause. “Hey, Enjolras.”  
“Good morning,” Enjolras hummed as he tried to act natural while closing the fridge door empty handed.   
“Why are you up?” Apparently him waking up naturally at four in the morning was not believable.   
“I have things to do,” he answered vaguely.   
“Yeah, like my brother,” he heard Bee mutter. Luckily, Grantaire had turned away in order to find his shoes so he didn’t see Enjolras gaping at the eight-year-old, blushing furiously.   
“Well, good luck- Bee, at least change your shirt- good luck with whatever it is. We should be heading out any minute now,” Grantaire said, looking pointedly at his sister at the end. Bee, who had started sulking over toward the stairs, sighed and then genuinely started to hurry.   
“Where do you work?” Enjolras asked after he and Grantaire stood silently for a few moment.  
“For this job? The breakfast joint a few blocks away.”  
“Do you walk there?” Grantaire nodded.  
“I could give you a ride,” Enjolras offered. He rarely drove, but he knew that at least one of the cars wouldn’t be in use today since Courfeyrac had been encouraging him to use it today in order to go and have a social life.   
“It’s fine. It’s nice out.”   
“Can I come with?”   
Grantaire finally looked up at him from the sandwich he was making.   
“Enjolras,” he sighed, “I already said I forgave you. You don’t have to keep being nice.”  
“But I want to go.” The funny thing was, he actually meant it. “I mean, if you don’t want me to then I won’t force-”  
“It’s okay. You can come if you want I guess.” Grantaire tried to cover up his surprise with an uncaring demeanor but was unsuccessful.   
Enjolras ignored the knowing smirk sent his way from Bee, who had just arrived back down stairs. 

The three of them walked in pleasant silence to the little ma and pa shop Grantaire worked at for one of his jobs. Enjolras settled himself in a booth across from Bee and watched Grantaire turn on the lights and start to get some bread ready.   
Enjolras pulled out his laptop and pretended to do the important stuff he had lied about having while Bee pulled out some math homework.   
Enjolras spent the next half hour scrolling through the news and watching Grantaire greet workers and customers as they began to trickle into the cafe.   
“Quit that.” Enjolras was broken out of his reverie by Bee snapping at him.  
“Stop what?” he asked indignantly.   
“Staring dreamily at my brother.”  
“I was just admiring his skill as a worker.” Bee scowled at him until he turned his attention back to his computer. 

“Taire, can you help me with this?” None of the workers or customers reacted to the girl yelling across the restaurant. In fact, some even smiled fondly at the kid. It was funny how it seemed Bee had been here forever, and not just a couple of days.   
“I’ve still got a bit until my break. Either wait or ask Enjolras.”   
“Can you help me Enjolras?” She sounded a lot less enthusiastic this time.   
“Sure.” Enjolras was panicking internally. How do you even explain simple things? What do second graders learn anyway? Addition? Would he need pencils to count or something?  
Bee slid into the booth next to him and showed him her workbook.   
“I don’t understand why you switch the direction of the greater-than sign when you divide an inequality by a negative number.”   
“Uhhh.” Well, this was embarrassing. “I don’t know why, you just do it.”  
“Thanks that answers all my questions,” Bee said sarcastically.  
“In my defense, I’m a political science major.”  
Bee rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”   
“Dividing by a negative changes the signs on either side, making it opposite of whatever it was,” Grantaire called from behind the counter.   
“I thought you hated math.”  
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t try to understand it.”   
“He has to be able to teach me,” Bee explained. Enjolras nodded numbly. 

“I’m in a rush, boy, move it!” Enjolras’ blood boiled as he watched a man in a suit yell at Grantaire.   
“Sir, there’s nothing I can do about it. We just put a new batch in so you’re going to have to wait.” The girl who had been working at the register looked at Grantaire nervously before going into the kitchen, presumably to find the manager. When the man had started to yell at the girl, Grantaire had stepped in.   
“Some of us have actually useful jobs to get to.” The man sneered. Enjolras grabbed Bee by the arm as she attempted to get out of their booth.   
“Sir,” Grantaire said again through gritted teeth. “I realize you are frustrated, but there is nothing any of us can do.”  
“Bring me your manager!” the man yelled as he slammed his fist on the counter. Enjolras’ vision went red as he saw Grantaire stumble back in alarm. He didn’t realize he had let go of Bee’s arm until the girl was roughly tapping on the man’s shoulder.   
“On behalf of the other patrons I have to ask you to-” The entire coffee shop went silent as the man backhanded the girl. Grantaire practically launched himself around the counter and put his arms around his sister, shielding her from the man while Enjolras stumbled to his feet and placed himself between the siblings and the stranger.   
“I hope you’re prepared for a lawsuit,” he told the man coolly. He did not have the fighting skills or spirit to fight off a man twice his size, but he sure knew how to use cut men down with a few sentences.   
“Who are you?” Enjolras was grateful that the man didn’t attack him. He was probably taken aback by Enjolras’ cool confidence that hid how scared he was.   
Enjolras straightened, pulled out his student ID, and shoved it in the man’s face.   
“You may recognize the name.” Enjolras rarely pulled the famous parent card, but this seemed as good of a time as any.   
“You mean the-”  
“The famous businessman and the lawyer? Yes those are my parents. And that was their daughter that you just hit.”   
The man frowned. “I know for a fact they only had one child.”  
Enjolras fake sighed dramatically. “Well, if you must know, she is actually mine. It was quite a scandal so they kept it all pretty quiet. They are her legal guardians, though, since I am too young to care for her.” Enjolras was glad Bee looked younger than she actually was, or else the man might be able to tell there was only twelve years between the two of them and that’s a bit weird.   
“Is there any way I could repay you without a lawsuit being involved?” The man asked nervously.   
“Well, I think my classmate here deserves a hearty tip for putting up with your highly inappropriate behavior.” Enjolras put a steadying hand on Grantaire’s shoulder and decided to keep it there. He looked down at Bee, who was being smothered by her brother. “Bethea, are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”   
Instead of reacting to the use of her full name by, say, murdering Enjolras, Bee just smiled sweetly up at him. “No, Papa,” she chirped.   
“Well, at least you don’t have to pay hospital bills,” Enjolras said as he turned back to the stranger. “But, we were going to head to the bookstore to by some things if you want to pitch in.”   
In the end, the stranger gave the siblings almost two hundred dollars as though it was pocket change.   
“Grantaire, m’boy,” called an old man who came from the back of the restaurant just as the man was leaving. “I was over at the other store but came as soon as I heard what was going on. Are you alright?”  
“Yes, Mr. Mabeuf,” Grantaire replied weakly. He was still kneeling on the ground and holding his sister to his chest, despite her obvious attempts to escape.   
“Your coworker” -Mr. Mabeuf gestured to the girl Grantaire had stood up for- “has agreed to cover your next shift so you may go home.”  
“Thank you.”  
Enjolras moved his hand from Grantaire’s shoulder in order to help him up. The trio headed out the door in silence, Grantaire tightly gripping his sister’s hand while Enjolras trailed behind them.   
Once they got back to the apartment, Grantaire crouched down to make eye contact with his sister.  
“Please stop fighting,” he begged. “You’re going to get hurt even worse one day. Not everything can be solved with confrontation. Some things aren’t worth risking your neck over.” Grantaire’s eyes flickered to Enjolras a few times during this speech, and Enjolras recognized it as the toned down summary of every argument Grantaire had made against the various causes Enjolras fought for.   
Grantaire handed Bee off to Joly so the aspiring biology major could fuss over her and then turned to Enjolras.  
“I know I can’t talk you out of your protest, but please be a good example. I think you’ve caused her to get involved in too many fights as it is.”  
“I did try to hold her back,” Enjolras said indignantly. “I just got a bit distracted and wanted to help you.”  
“The best way you can help is keeping my sister safe. I’d rather you let me handle it than letting her get hurt while you two try to help me.” Grantaire looked serious, obviously, but also a bit scared.   
“Okay,” Enjolras said finally. “Okay. I’ll make her safety my top priority.”  
“Thank you,” Grantaire answered. He seemed to have broken out of his dazed mood and looked a bit awkward as the two stood and had a serious conversation.  
“Grantaire,” Enjolras called as said man turned to walk away, “I know it’s not just Bee that you’re worried will get hurt, but know that we are taking precautions to keep everyone safe. Nothing too bad will happen.” There might as well have been an ominous rumble of thunder with how much Enjolras had jinxed himself.


	4. Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A protest goes wrong and Enjolras learns the extent of Bee's problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence

“Taking a mocking approach isn’t an inappropriate way to defend the cause, late night shows do it all the time,” Bee told Enjolras as she grabbed his hand while they crossed the street. This was, of course, at Grantaire’s insistence since his own hands were full with the posters.   
“But a solemn address appeals to the audience’s emotions,” Enjolras countered.  
“True, but comedy draws in a different audience, so ideally a combination of both would yield an ideal outcome.”   
“Hey Bahorel,” Feuilly called, “an eight year old just contributed more useful ideas to the cause in five minutes than you have in almost two years.” Bahorel whacked the other student on the back of the head with a pamphlet. 

The protest started off well enough, as they always did. They had made it through the march and the other speakers without a hitch, and now it was Enjolras’ turn to give the final address. It was usually during times like these that chaos broke out, and today wouldn’t be any different. 

Enjolras felt a strong sense of deja vous as someone in the audience brandished a weapon as he was giving his speech. And, just like before, Grantaire headed over to control the situation, followed by Bahorel. Instead of continuing, Enjolras hopped off the stage, making the audience suspect something was wrong.   
Then, a gunshot rang out. People ran screaming in every direction, blocking Enjolras’s view of Grantaire.   
“Grantaire!” he yelled in a panic, even though he knew no one could hear him.  
“Enjolras!” someone called. A few feet from him was Bee, who had been left in the care of Joly. The medical student was also waving Enjolras over.   
Enjolras glanced once more in the direction Grantaire had disappeared, before deciding Grantaire would probably kill him if Enjolras chose him over his sister.   
“Are you okay?” He asked Bee as he pushed through the crowd to her.  
“I need you to watch her,” Joly said. The pre-med student gestured to a passed out woman he was tending. “I’ve got my hands full.”  
Enjolras nodded and grabbed Bee’s hand, pulling her toward the bar they had first met in.   
“Enjolras!” Bee cried a moment later. Enjolras glanced over his shoulder and saw the gunman storming their way. Enjolras tried to run faster, but Bee’s shorter legs couldn’t keep up. The student scooped up the little girl and started sprinting.   
Suddenly, a searing pain tore through his right leg and he fell to the ground. His ears were filled with ringing and the sounds of Bee’s screams. His leg started to go numb with burning pain, and the world swirled around him.  
“Look at me, Enjolras!” Who was that? Was there a child? He didn’t have a kid did he? Enjolras’ thoughts travelled through his mind as though fighting through thick clots of blood.   
“I didn’t actually mean I wanted you to get shot.”   
“Grantaire can’t lose someone like this in this life too.” Grantaire. He knew that name. The image of dark curls and blue eyes slowly appeared in his mind’s eye. He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through that hair. The image of Grantaire faded as everything turned black.

Enjolras felt fuzzy. There was no other way to describe it. He had no control over his limbs and his brain might as well have been a giant cotton ball. He squinted his eyes open slightly, only to scrunch them shut again with a groan. He heard voices saying his name, but they started to fade as he fell asleep again.  
The next time he woke up, he felt a little more in control of his own mind, and was able to open his eyes slightly. As he tried to get his eyes to adjust, he heard people coming in and talking to him. They told him that he’d been shot in the right leg.  
“When-” Enjolras started, but then cleared his throat after no sound came out. “When do I get out of here?”  
“We’ll have to see,” said one of the doctors. “We’re hoping no more than three days, but you’ll have to rest at home, use crutches, and go to physical therapy.” The doctors left as soon as they came, and Enjolras was left alone.   
Except he wasn’t alone. Joly sat passed out in a chair near the door, and Bee was silently studying him from the chair next to his bed.   
“Are you okay?” He asked.   
“You were the one who was shot,” she pointed out with an incredulous look.  
“Still.” Bee looked at him for a moment before standing back from the bed a bit and showing him her purple cast.   
“I’m sorry.”   
Bee just shook her head. “It’s fine Enjolras. It could have turned out worse if you hadn’t been there.”   
They sat in silence for a moment. “Can I sign it?” Enjolras asked suddenly.   
Bee smiled and handed him a marker. There was hardly any space left since all the Amis had gotten to it already.   
“Grantaire drew the flowers, yeah?” He asked. She nodded.   
“How’s everybody been?”  
“They’ve been taking turns stopping in here. It’s not like you’ve been out for that long.”  
Enjolras turned his attention to his phone, which had somehow survived, while Bee read a book that was way too hard for an average second grader. 

“You should go to sleep,” Enjolras said after Bee had started nodding off for the third time. The girl just shook her head.  
“How come you haven’t been getting enough sleep?” Enjolras asked, fearing the answer.  
Bee sighed and looked at Enjolras intently for a few moments. “Nightmares,” she admitted.   
“Because of…?” Enjolras gestured between his leg and her arm.   
“I’d been having them before.” Enjolras noticed that she didn’t say whether they had gotten worse or not. 

“Enjolras, you’re awake!” Grantaire rushed to stand next to his sister’s chair. Joly awoke with a snort.  
“Hey, R,” Enjolras greeted tiredly.   
“How are you feeling?” Enjolras wanted to respond ‘like I’ve been shot’ but decided against it.  
“I’m alright.” Bee raised her eyebrows at that comment but said nothing.   
“They were able to catch the man. I think it might be the same one from before.”  
“That’s good.” Grantaire pulled up another chair. Enjolras, Joly, and Grantaire chatted about the protest, the news, what Enjolras had missed in his day of sleep.  
“Did anyone else get hurt?” Enjolras asked suddenly, even though their topic of conversation wasn’t really on the protest anymore.  
“Bahorel got a black eye and Bee broke her elbow,” Joly explained, gesturing to the now sleeping girl.  
“I’m sorry Grantaire,” Enjolras said, looking down in shame.   
To his surprise, he felt arms wrap around his shoulders quickly, but disappeared before he could appreciate there warmth.   
“Thank you for being there,” Grantaire said seriously. “It could have turned out worse if she had been left in the middle of the crowd. I didn’t actually expect you to listen to me, if I’m being honest.”   
“I think we’ve finally started getting along,” Enjolras said with genuine pride.  
Grantaire rolled his eyes a bit. “Yeah, I guess.”  
A somewhat awkward silence settled in the room and Joly valiantly volunteered to leave.   
“Hey, Enj, I figured you’d be bored so I brought some playing card if you want to do something,” Grantaire suggested awkwardly.  
The time flew as the two played cards, chatted about trivial things, and blushed like school girls whenever they made eye contact. 

“Do you have any prime ministers?” asked Enjolras.   
“Go fish.” Enjolras groaned as he had to draw yet again from the pile of cards sat precariously at the edge of the bed.  
“Do you have any presidents?” Enjolras sighed and handed over his queen of hearts.  
Grantaire set down his pair among the many others and held up his hands, showing that his hands were empty. In contrast, Enjolras had two pairs and what seemed like half the deck.

“Are you letting me win?” Enjolras asked after he won his second game in a row after losing every single game before. After taking a ‘Go fish’ break for Enjolras’ sanity, they had gone back to playing fake poker. Enjolras lost track of how much he supposedly owed Grantaire after about 50,000 dollars.   
“No,” Grantaire said with a smirk.  
“How are you so good at this?” Enjolras whined playfully.   
“I know how to counter almost every trick thanks to my usual opponent.” Grantaire gestured to his sister.   
“How did she handle what happened?” Enjolras asked quietly, setting his cards down for a moment.  
Grantaire’s smile melted. He sighed and did the same. “About as well as you’d expect, I guess.”   
“And you?”   
Grantaire looked away. “Just promise to never do that again.”   
Enjolras hesitantly reached out and put his hand over Grantaire’s. “I’ll try,” he said, squeezing the artist’s surprisingly thin hand, “but sometimes self-sacrifice is necessary.”  
They returned to playing cards for a bit and then decided to play a movie on the ancient TV in the room. The doctors came in at one point to change the bandages on his right leg and informed him he could go home the next day if he promised to be careful and go to all his checkups and physical therapy appointments. With the doctors’ permission, he was able to sit cross-legged on the bed, making him feel less like an invalid. The doctors left and Enjolras played the movie again.   
“You can sit up here if you want,” Enjolras suggested as Grantaire shifted in his chair for the fifth time in the last minute. Grantaire hesitated before carefully perching himself on the edge of the bed. 

The were halfway through Finding Nemo, which Enjolras liked a lot more than he thought he would (it probably had something to do with no sexualized cartoon figures), when the two of them heard a whining noise. Grantaire, who had ended up sprawled across the foot of the bed and was close to dozing off, sat up suddenly, or at least as quick as he could without jostling Enjolras.   
Bee, who had been sprawled across two chairs, was twitching and squirming suddenly. She made a noise that sounded like a muffled scream while tears slipped down her thin cheeks.   
“Bee, c’mon wake up,” Grantaire begged while shaking her shoulder gently. Luckily, that’s all it took. Her eyes flew open and she scrambled away from her brother, getting caught under the armrest of one of the chairs in the process. She cried out as she hit her casted arm, but managed to escape and scramble to the corner.   
“He’s coming for me!” she cried in… wait, why was she talking in french?   
Bee looked around wildly, with no recognition, until she saw her brother. She dove into his arms, almost tackling him, and continued rambling.   
“We have to go! We have to go! He’s going to kill us!” Enjolras carefully slid out of bed and used it as support to get in Bee’s line of sight.   
“Who?” he asked.   
The girl looked at him, but apparently had no understanding of who he was or what he had said.   
“You should leave,” she said, “he’s coming.”   
“Who?” he asked again, but switched to french.   
“Our…” Bee trailed off as her eyes finally met Enjolras’ and recognition filled her face. She fell limp, but Grantaire still had his arms around her and was able to catch her. She started to cry. Enjolras watched Grantaire sit her on the foot of the bed before turning back to him.   
“Do you need help?” Enjolras would have nodded, but he suddenly realized how fuzzy his head felt and settled for an affirmative hum since he also didn’t trust himself to talk without throwing up. One probably wasn’t meant to stand when their bloodstream was comprised mainly of drugs.  
By the time Enjolras managed to get settled back in bed, his leg hurt, but not as much as his pride did. Hospital gowns were not modest.   
“I’m sorry,” Bee whispered everytime Enjolras grunted in pain.   
“It’s not your fault,” Enjolras assured her, but this only made her cry harder. Enjolras looked at Grantaire, trying to judge his reaction to this. He seemed worried, yes, but not surprised.   
Grantaire went to put an arm around her as soon as Enjolras was settled, but flinched back when she gasped shakily in surprise.   
“I’m gonna be like mom,” she all but wailed and somehow managed to cry even harder into her knees.   
“No, no you aren’t,” Grantaire said, though hesitantly, as he wrapped his arms around her gently. His face looked horrified, but whether it was because she would even think that or because he realized it was true Enjolras didn’t know. Man, he did not want to meet his hopefully future mother-in-law based on this reaction. ‘Okay, back up a step. Stop being weird,’ Enjolras told himself. It was truly sad that he had to force himself to focus the crying child. However, he remembered what said child had said and he didn’t have time for hopeless romances.   
“Who is trying to kill you?” Enjolras asked.   
Bee hiccupped a bit but answered, “It wasn’t real, just a nightmare. We’re safe. No one’s coming, we’re safe.” The way she said it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.   
“And were you dreaming in french or something.” She nodded after a moment of indecision.   
“I didn’t know you were fluent in french.”  
“I’m not.”  
“You sounded pretty fluent to me.”  
“I never learned french and I’ve never been to France in this lifetime.” If Enjolras was religious, he would have considered calling an exorcist. This sounded like a case of speaking in tongues.   
“In this lifetime?” he asked nervously.  
Bee was about to answer but Grantaire cut her off. “We don’t know anything for sure,” he said, trying to sound calm, “Bee just believes that because she has a nightmare taking place in 19th century France means that she’s remembering a past life.” Big surprise, Grantaire was skeptical about something.   
“But if that was the case, she wouldn’t have been able to speak french when she woke up.” Bee looked at Enjolras curiously when he defended her theory.  
“It was just gibberish.”  
“No it wasn’t,” Enjolras said slowly. “How do you think I knew someone was trying to kill her in her dreams?” Grantaire paled.  
“She was saying that ‘he’ was going to kill her.”  
“But then why don’t either of us have these memories?”  
“I don’t know,” admitted Enjolras, but he apparently was alone in his ignorance since Bee looked away quickly and shifted uncomfortably.   
“I think it’s just something weird that runs in the family. Our mom had weird dreams, too.”  
“I prefer my theory,” Bee muttered. “So I’m going to be a murderer.”  
“There’s a difference Bee.” Grantaire leaned down so he could be eye to eye with his sister. “You are a good person, mom wasn’t. She tried to kill someone, you won’t.”  
“We’ll figure this out, Bumblebee, I promise.”  
“Yeah,” Bee responded hollowly. 

Grantaire and his sister left, and were replaced with Jehan, who cheerfully described a bird he saw on his way there. Enjolras tuned him eventually as the stress of the day got to him. The next morning, Combeferre drove him back to the house. He hobbled up the front steps on crutches and was greeted by the entire group, who had apparently all taken work off to properly freak out.  
Enjolras sat on the couch with his leg propped up on the ottoman while the others fussed over him, despite his assurances that he was fine. Eventually, the novelty wore off and everyone calmed down.   
“Hey, Enjolras?” Enjolras looked up from his government textbook to see Grantaire with his work bag with Bee hovering behind him.   
“Yeah?” he asked  
“I was wondering, since you’re going to be home,” Grantaire said slowly, “if you could watch Bee. You don’t have to of course.”  
“Of course,” he said with a smile.   
Grantaire smiled guiltily yet gratefully. “Thank you so much. Just call the store if you need me to come home.”  
Once Grantaire had rushed out the door, Bee hesitantly sat on the arm of the chair usually occupied by Bossuet. They sat in silence, Enjolras reading his book and Bee lost in thought.  
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Bee asked suddenly, refusing to look at Enjolras.   
“No of course not.” Enjolras set down his book and leaned forward. “I think you’re scared and still trying to figure out what’s going on, but I don’t think you’re crazy.”  
“Crazy people talk in languages they don’t know and have the same nightmare over and over again.”  
“Not necessarily, it can be the result of trauma or a medical condition. You’re not crazy Bee, we’ll figure this out.”   
“Do you think reincarnation could be real?”   
“I mean, there’s nothing to prove that it doesn’t.” Enjolras hesitated before asking, “Do you have a theory as to why some people remember and why some people don’t?”  
Jehan hummed as he walked by to the kitchen. Bee hopped off her seat and sat next to Enjolras.  
“I think it happens at the age you died in your past life,” she whispered. “My mom went crazy the day I was born, so maybe she died giving birth to me.”  
“So in your dream Grantaire is the same age he is now?” Bee nodded.  
“Why didn’t you want to tell him?” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.  
“He thinks his only purpose in life is to protect me. If I suggested that I died this young in a past life while he was there would crush him.”  
Enjolras nodded sagely. “Well, we can keep it between us for now. Whatever the truth turns out to be, you’ll be fine. You have an amazing brother, me, and all the other students here.”  
Bee looked at him with hope in her eyes for the first time in a while. “I’m glad your not dead.”  
“I’m touched.”


	5. A break from angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some angst, enjoy Enjolras and the rest of the Amis trying to babysit and developing Enjoltaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none really. Some discussions of gender rolls as explained by an ignorant cis person.

At first, Enjolras was nervous about babysitting since he had no experience with childcare, but then he realized that no amount of time spent with kids could have prepared him for this. Fortunately, the students that were left to babysit Enjolras were equally as lost.   
Bahorel was the first one left to make sure Enjolras didn’t try to do anything stupid with an injured leg and ensure that Bee didn’t set anything on fire.   
“Ow.”  
“Sorry!”  
“Your fine, it was a good hit.”   
Enjolras slowly lowered his book. Bahorel better not be doing what Enjolras thought he was doing. Enjolras fumbled with his crutches and slowly made his way over to the living room.   
Bahorel was standing in the middle of the living room where the coffee table, which was shoved into a corner, would normally stand and holding pads that you would see boxing trainers hold.   
“Now what do you have to make sure to protect when punching?”  
“The thumbs,” Bee answered seriously.   
“That’s right. Now do the double punch that I just showed you.” Bee hit the pads with a look of barely contained anger, but her face calmed when she looked to Bahorel for approval. Enjolras’ nose throbbed just thinking about how much worse it would have been if the girl had punched him with training.   
Enjolras cleared his throat to alert the other two of his presence.   
“Oh, hey Enj,” Bahorel said, purposely hitting himself in the eye with the punching pad as he did a mock solute and was rewarded with a snicker from Bee.  
“Is this the best activity for an eight-year-old?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“Your never too young to learn how to defend yourself,” Bahorel told him while taking a slow lunge at the girl and was expertly blocked. Enjolras cringed as he saw how close the girl’s foot came to actually kicking Bahorel in the groin and decided to at least supervise, which turned into cheering the girl on once he finally got tired of Bahorel’s teasing him about being babysat.   
Feuilly bought the little girl water colors and let her paint with him in the studio, which eventually led to her painting Enjolras’ bandages.   
Jehan read to her with funny voices, which was the only small child appropriate part of the activity since the youngest student was reading Macbeth. At least he got good use of Frida the skull.   
Combeferre actually made Bee do homework. It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t a good worker, she just felt the need to point out the fact that every assignment was stupid.   
“Combeferre, why do I need to find five examples of relative location in my neighborhood? I know what it is and it won’t help me when I’m a doctor.”  
“It’s important to have practical experience to ensure you have the correct idea.”  
“So do you test for every disease when you can already tell the patient has pneumonia?”  
“Well, no.”  
“Exactly, because that would be a waste of time and resources, just like this assignment.”  
“Just do it because they told you to.”   
“Aren’t you part of an informal rebellion?”  
“I need another dose of caffeine.”  
“You know,” Enjolras told Combeferre as the exasperated student passed where he was reading a government textbook at the kitchen table, “I’m really starting to see the family resemblance.”   
“I’m going to be upstairs,” Combeferre announced. “Don’t break anything or anyone.”  
“Yes, Mom,” Bee answered sarcastically. 

Bossuet had a late night shift watching over the two of them while everyone else was at a campus event and Grantaire had taken over a shift from another worker. They had all gone to bed an hour ago when Enjolras awoke to a clanging noise.   
He rushed downstairs in a t-shirt and boxers to find Bee and Bossuet hurriedly cleaning up a smashed jar that once held their flour supply. The student carefully picked up the glass while Bee mindlessly pushed flour around with her fingers more than she actually cleaned it. Enjolras studied them for a moment, mainly the overexaggerated jovialness of Bossuet and the reserved and exhausted body language of the little girl.   
He walked over and started to help clean up, not even getting a reaction from Bee.   
“-and then when I bent down to help him pick it up, I knocked over another one- Oh, hey Enjolras.” Enjolras simply nodded in greeting and continued to help Bossuet clean. The three of them finished up making the cookies the pair had started using pancake mix instead of flour and only spilling half of the chocolate chips, which Bossuet taught Bee how to steal when no one was looking. Bee fell asleep eventually, still not having said a word, and Bossuet carried her to the couch, closely followed by a visibly distressed Enjolras.   
“I was getting a drink when she ran past me and toward the door. I said something to her and she froze and then started crying,” Bossuet whispered worriedly to Enjolras as they finished cleaning up the complete mess they had made of the kitchen and pack away their burnt cookies. “I panicked and just started to tell her a story and then suggested we eat cookies but we didn’t have any.” Sometimes it was hard to remember that Bossuet was 22 and not 72.   
“I think she’s having some sort of mental breakdown,” Enjolras told him, which was partly true. 

Unfortunately for Bee, who had dark circles under her eyes the next morning, Joly was the one incharge of watching the two of them, which meant Joly did nothing but fuss over her.   
“Let me check again,” Joly said. Bee sighed longsufferingly but let the pre-med student take her temperature for the fifth time that hour.   
“Joly, she just didn’t sleep well last night,” Enjolras said again without looking up from his computer.   
“Better safe than sorry,” Joly said as he wrapped a third blanket around the girl, making only her bright hair and pale, scowling face visible in the sea of yarn. Enjolras smiled apologetically at her while Joly hurried to the kitchen to make more tea. 

Funny enough, it was Courfeyrac who had the most trouble making friends with Bee. Kids were normally drawn to him, probably because he had never left childhood himself, but his energy and imagination only served to confuse Bee.   
“But there’s nothing there,” Bee said, lowering her ‘sword.’   
Courfeyrac lowered his own stick and sighed. “You’re supposed to pretend. It’s like storytelling but without having to sit down for forever.”   
“But you can read a story a lot faster than you can act it out,” Bee pointed out.   
“You do it more for the action and not for the plot. Jeez, did Grantaire ever play with you?”   
Courfeyrac noticed his mistake too late. Bee straightened up so that she was a full three feet, eight inches of righteous fury.   
“Not everyone has the luxury of freetime as a teenager. We had some rather important things going on and didn’t have time to fight things that aren’t real,” she said curtly, before dramatically turning on her heel and heading into the kitchen to find Enjolras. She stood in front of him with her head held high, but deflated as soon as he looked at her sadly.   
“Do you want to read with me?” he asked, and received a nod in response. He picked her up and sat her on his good leg and then pulled up the only childlike reading he had on his tablet: the Hobbit. Enjolras wasn’t one of these people who read out loud, so instead he read over Bee’s shoulder and occasionally helped her with difficult words.  
Courf remained hidden for a few minutes, which was worrying. But then a whirring noise announced the arrival of a small remote controlled car loaded with candy. The car stopped by their feet and dumped the load, before returning to where it had come from.   
“I think he’s trying to apologize,” Enjolras told Bee, who nodded and took a piece without looking away from the story. Over the course of half an hour, the truck arrived three more times. By the last arrival, Bee was trying not to grin.   
“Do you forgive him?” Enjolras asked her.  
“He’s weird, but I like him.” Enjolras didn’t have the heart to tell her that the student was acting how most people her age were supposed to.   
“So am I forgiven?” Courfeyrac asked, peaking around the corner and into the kitchen.  
“I suppose,” Bee said while trying not to smile.   
‘Wait,’ Enjolras thought, ‘why did Courfeyrac get forgiven so much easier than him?’   
“Well that’s good, because you’re going to have to trust me if we are going to get you away from Smaug.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Your sitting on his lap.”  
“This is Enjolras…”  
Against his better judgement, Enjolras decided to teach the girl how to play.   
“Well, Bee. ‘There is something about you. Something you carry, something made or gold… but far more precious.’” Bee looked to the tablet in her hand and spark lit in her eyes.   
“I mean, it’s yours so you can have it back…” she said.  
“‘You have nice manners for a thief.’” Enjolras tried to give his most devious smile.   
“Bee, you can’t let him have it!” cried Courfeyrac. Enjolras stuck the tip of his fingers in the glass of water he had next to him and flicked water at Courf, who flailed dramatically as it sprinkled his shirt.   
“Nooo!” he cried. “Bee, you have to run! Leave me! You can’t give him access to that much raw, intellectual power!”   
“I’ll save you!” Bee cried with a smile, but Enjolras started to tickle her.   
“You can’t escape me! ‘My teeth are swords. My claws are spears. My wings are a HURRICANE!’” Enjolras really hoped that the quotes from the movie were pretty close to the book since he hadn’t actually gotten around to reading it.   
“I’ll save you!” Courf plucked the girl from Enjolras’ lap and handed her the stick from earlier. “Take this sword, Smaug will come back for revenge!”  
Knowing his line, Enjolras cried, “‘Revenge? Revenge? I will show you revenge! I am fire! I am… death!’” He slid of his chair and started to crawl after them, leaving his injured leg to drag behind him.   
He spent the next half an hour chasing the child, well, two children really, around the house. Bee eventually started leading the quest, which gave Courfeyrac the chance to sneak away and start filming the phenomenon. 

That night, Enjolras limped upstairs on his crutches, which he really wasn’t supposed to do, to make sure Bee had actually gone to bed. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he just had a constant fear she would hurt herself while having a nightmare or try to make a run for it again, so he often found himself checking in on her.   
He found Bee asleep in her own bed (which seems obvious but she had a talent for falling asleep in weird places) and breathed a sigh of relief.   
“Hey, Enj.”   
Enjolras was proud to say that he didn’t shriek.  
“Grantaire! When did you get here?” Grantaire was sitting on the warn couch in the attic common room and looking at Enjolras with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.   
“About an hour ago, you had fallen asleep behind the couch.”  
“I was hiding. For important reasons.”   
“Oh yeah, I know all about it.” Grantaire unplugged his headphones and the sound of Enjolras’ own voice filled the room.   
“‘There you are, Thief in the Shadows!’” Enjolras in the video cried in a roar that was much higher pitched than Enjolras expected.  
“I’m going to kill Courfeyrac,” Enjolras said, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.  
“Don’t worry about it, Apollo. I don’t think I’ve ever liked you more.” Now it was Grantaire’s turn to blush as he realized what he had said.   
“Your sister isn’t really one for imagination,” Enjolras said, quickly changing the subject for Grantaire’s sake and in order to ignore the butterflies that had appeared when he first saw Grantaire to multiply exponentially. “But she really loves fiction. It’s interesting.”   
“Well, the school she went to encourages reading but not playing, which is dumb. Kids need to be able to train their imagination so that they’ll be able to come up with creative solutions to future problems and not just work mechanically out of textbooks. And how are they supposed to find stress relief if they are never taught to enjoy things like art? How are they supposed to feel valued and purposeful when they are just robots of the education system?”   
Enjolras felt his heart melt at the sight of the righteous fury in Grantaire’s eyes. Apparently nothing turns young adults on like being good with kids and hating corrupt institutions.   
“Sorry,” Grantaire said quickly. “You probably knew all about that anyway.”   
“It’s fine,” Enjolras said, and then he smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked you more.” The two students stared at each other shyly, and then, without thinking, Enjolras leaned forward to give Grantaire a soft kiss on his cheek.   
“You need to get to bed,” Enjolras said to the exhausted yet elated artist. “Good night.” Enjolras all but ran out of the room. In fact, if he hadn’t been injured he probably would have.  
Enjolras flung himself down on the couch and tried to get to brain to function again. He giggled and fell back on the couch. 

“Hey Enjolras.”   
Enjolras looked up at the sound of his name and laid aside his reclaimed tablet.   
“Yeah?” Bee slowly sat next to him, looking unusually unsure of herself.   
“Can I ask you something personal?”  
“Of course.” Enjolras would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. Sure, he had gotten surprisingly close to the girl during a very short time, but this could be way beyond his area of expertise.  
Bee took a deep breath and opened her mouth, only to close it again and take another one.   
“Take your time,” Enjolras told her kindly.   
Bee straightened up and her usual confident demeanor was back.   
“Are you going to stop spending time with me now that you and Grantaire are dating now?” She started to deflate but remembered to keep her guard up.   
Enjolras took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to approach this. Just a few days ago he was worrying about if Bee would punch him again, and now he was worried about fixing her abandonment issues.   
He carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and waited for her reaction before he continued. She melted into his side, just as Enjolras had seen her do to Grantaire. Enjolras smiled.  
“I care about both of you. Yes I… like your brother, but I’m not pretending to care about you just so that he would like me. I will be honest, I thought there was no hope of getting you to like me and I wanted to get on good terms with Grantaire, but the second you started roasting my ideals, I knew there was hope.”  
“So your not leaving.”  
“No.”  
“And your not faking?”  
“No.”  
“And you really like my brother?”  
“Yes. I really do.”

Later that afternoon, Enjolras and Bee were left alone, not so much because of Bee, but more because they figured Enjolras couldn’t hurt himself that much if he decided to do something stupid.   
Enjolras had spent the last few hours worrying if he had affected the girl psychologically by admitting he only tried to get along with her at first so that her brother wouldn’t hate him, but it turns out the honesty made him an ideal source of information since Bee all of a sudden had no problem asking him about how his sexualitly had affected his life, what he thought of the values of the Amis’ college, etc. He had no problems answering things about himself since he had brought those things up many times in speeches, but he faltered when it came to topics that weren’t specific to him.   
“Why does she keep giving me these?” Bee asked, clearly annoyed as she flung herself onto the couch next to him.   
“What?” Enjolras asked, since Bee clearly wanted to complain to him. The little girl held up a bag that was full of stickers, colorful paper, and markers.   
“What is it for?” Enjolras asked. He knew she loved arts and crafts, even though she was more focused on being allowed to make a mess than on the actual project, so why was she angry?  
“Mothers’ Day,” she muttered acriminously. Oh.   
“Maybe she doesn’t-”  
“She does,” Bee cut in before he could finish.   
“Well,” Enjolras shifted uncomfortably, “you don’t have to give it to your real mom, just anyone who has a role similar to the idealistic, stereotypical role of a mother in your life. Any you can have multiple mothers or mother-like figures in your life.”  
“What are the traditional roles of mothers and fathers?” Bee asked, genuinely confused by the concept.  
“Well, fathers are supposed to be more protective and mothers are supposed to be more nurturing.”  
“What if your parents were to act the other way around? Would you call them the opposite name?”  
“No, it’s primarily labelled based on gender, especially when it comes to formal parents or guardians. Or just a non-gender specific parent. When it’s someone who is a friend that fills that role, you can change it up a bit, kinda like how most of us call Joly our mom.”  
Bee nodded slowly in understanding, deep in thought. “Interesting,” she muttered.  
“That’s one way to put it. I would say confusing and arbitrary.”   
“So since Grantaire is more officially related to me, he would have more of a father-like role in my life even though he is nurturing as well, but Joly has the stereotypical mother-hen role because he fusses over me and I can consider him a mom figure despite the gender he identifies as because our relationship isn’t really defined?”  
Enjolras blinked, still trying to process what the girl had asked. “Yes,” he answered hesitantly, not quite sure if he understood correctly. If only the public were as willing to talk about gender roles as this kid was. Of course, he didn’t have all the answers, but he tried to explain as best he could based off what he learned at meetings. He was more involved with poverty and Jehan was more of their social norms person.   
Enjolras waited to see if the girl would say anything else and then returned to his book.   
That Sunday, Joly was given a neatly decorated, hot pink card, which he showed to the students the second they returned home for the evening. All the students cooed over it and praised Bee, but Grantaire’s eyes welled up with tears just as Joly’s had when he had been given his now prized possession. He didn’t say anything as he picked up his sister and kissed her forehead.   
“Did you explain…” Grantaire seemed at a lost for words, so Enjolras just nodded.   
“Thank you, I’ve been trying, but…” Grantaire shifted his sister onto his hip and pulled Enjolras into a one armed hug. Bee shot Enjolras an alarmed look, but he just shook his head. Honestly, he had no idea what was going and he was supposed to be an adult. He decided it was just because the artist was sleep deprived.   
“Why don’t we go to bed,” Enjolras suggested, but kind of regretted it once the warmth of Grantaire’s arm was gone.   
The siblings headed upstairs, Bee squirming and trying to escape Grantaire’s arms.  
“Are they together,” he heard Courfeyrac whisper.   
“About damn time,” Musichetta answered. Enjolras wasn’t really sure what they were, but he didn’t want to correct them, so he just calmly put the card on the mantel and tried to control his blush.


	6. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras, Grantaire, and Bee are left alone for the beginning of the summer and Enjolras starts to learn more about Grantaire's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda short because I decided to split it in two.  
> Warnings: nightmares, mentions of familial death, implied abuse

The month went on without too much drama from either of the siblings, until things changed too much for Bee’s liking as everyone headed home for the summer. Well, almost everyone.   
Most of them headed to other sides of the country to stay with their families, but Enjolras stayed for an internship and Grantaire stayed because… well, Enjolras didn’t know really but he was sure there was a good reason. Jehan, who lived nearby, came to visit every weekend, and Combeferre and Joly returned after only a month away.   
Going away was always difficult for the few of them that had been friends for years, but it was even harder when you had to pry yourself away from a crying eight-year-old. It had taken some time, but Bee had come to see them as the friends she had apparently never made at school. 

The seniors (even though only one actually graduated) were the first to leave.   
“I’ll be back in a month, I promise,” Joly assured the little girl who was clinging to him desperately. Bossuet, who was visiting home just because, even though he had dropped out a year ago, and Bahorel, who was going to have to attend college for another year, had already managed to escape and were looking sadly at the scene in front of them as they waited by the car.   
“They’re going to come back, Bumblebee,” Grantaire assured the girl as she cried on his lap once the eldest three had left, though even he sounded doubtful.   
“And you’re both still stuck with me,” Enjolras reminded them as he ruffled the little girl’s hair and wrapped an arm around Grantaire’s shoulders. 

Then, the rest went away. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan went home while Feuilly went on a mission trip to another country, so then only two juniors were left to take care of a child. 

Their first night by themselves was spent making a blanket fort.   
“Try tossing that textbook onto the corner,” Enjolras instructed Grantaire. He had planned on studying at some point but decided that Bee needed some attention as all the people who cared about her left at the same time.   
Bee giggled quietly as the blanket fell on top of where she was sitting. They set up a sloppy shelter with the various knitted creations of Jehan and settled under it to watch some kid appropriate television. Though Bee had recently started to act more childlike as she stayed with the students (who were basically children themselves), but it was still the more serious movies that held her attention.   
“Do you think any of the events are supposed to be related to real life ones?”  
“I think it’s fairly hypothetical.”   
“Well, I think if they had continued without a solution it would have turned into a familiar situation when it comes to racial issues, but at the point the movie leaves off on it is too general of a situation to be pointing to something specific I think.”   
“There’s no way of knowing that, if there were a group of diverse animals decided to come together and end the prejudice before it could get out of hand, like the singing gazelle.”  
“Or they could try to kill each other like the corrupt government was trying to start.”  
“I think it’s likely that both would happen at the same time.”   
And on and on the conversations went. Whenever Bee got too caught up in the movie to debate, Enjolras and Grantaire were left with their opposite views. Enjolras pointed out the modern messages and inspiring views while Grantaire argued for the grim messages and basically anything that went against Enjolras. Between the two of them, they probably picked out every possible message or symbol.   
When Bee did join them, she took turns siding with each of them and often connecting their arguments to each other so they had no choice but to agree.   
Bee fell asleep in a nest of blankets eventually, so Grantaire and Enjolras moved to the couch to watch some more adult movies.   
To say that Enjolras was nervous would be an understatement. He wasn’t paying attention to the screen in favor of being hyper aware of himself and Grantaire.   
After a while, Enjolras decided to make the first move and grab Grantaire’s hand, leading Grantaire to lean against his side.   
“You can go to bed if you want,” Enjolras told Grantaire a few minutes later as the other battled to keep his eyes open.   
“Nah,” Grantaire said with a sleepy smile and instead rested his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, causing the blond to blush. 

Before he had even realized he had fallen asleep, Enjolras woke up to the sound of whimpering. Honestly, he was kind of expecting it. He had discovered over his time as babysitter that Bee had nightmares nearly every night, only a few rare full nights sleep when she was too exhausted to dream.   
“Bee,” he whispered quietly as he stumbled over to the sleeping girl. “Bee wake up.” He shook her shoulder gently so as to not startle her too much. His ribs had hurt for a week last time he had scared her too much.   
Bee’s eyes flew open immediately and she sat up quickly, but Enjolras knew this would happen and moved out of the way.   
“What’s going on?” she asked. Enjolras froze when he realized that, one, she had spoken in English, and two, the whimpering was still happening.   
He whirled around and saw Grantaire curled up in the corner of the couch, breathing heavily with his eyebrows scrunched in concern. He was twitching and tears fell from his eyes onto the couch arm that he was using as a pillow.  
Enjolras looked over at Bee to gauge her reaction. She was chewing on the back of her knuckle nervously but didn’t look surprised. She crept forward and gently rubbed his shoulder.  
“Taire. Taire, it’s okay. You’re safe, we’re both safe.” Bee sounded desperate and looked at Enjolras with pleading eyes, so he stepped forward hesitantly.   
“R, wake up.” At the sound of Enjolras’ voice, Grantaire froze but did not awaken.   
“You’re okay, R. I promise.” Tears far down Grantaire’s face, but he eventually opened his eyes. His bright blue eyes, now cloudy, looked around him like he was a cornered animal, before finally landing on his sister and boyfriend who were hovering near him.   
One last whimper escaped his lips as he sat up, buried his face in his hands, and started to cry softly. Bee, still not looking surprised, clambered into her brother’s lap and wrapped her arms around his waist, determinedly studying the couch back that she was now facing. Almost automatically, one of Grantaire’s arms went down to wrap an around her shoulders in return.   
Enjolras remained frozen as Grantaire continued to cry, despite obviously trying to control himself. He hesitantly stepped forward before kneeling at Grantaire’s eye level.  
“R, can I hug you?” he asked softly. Grantaire made a sound akin to a whine as he nodded. Enjolras stood up and sat next to his boyfriend. Grantaire was still sat sideways on the couch, so Enjolras settled between him and the arm of the sofa the young man had been using for a pillow. He wrapped his arms around Grantaire from the back, letting one hand rest on Bee’s shoulder and the other against Grantaire’s chest.   
Grantaire started to cry even harder. Alarmed, Enjolras started to pull away but froze when Grantaire melted into his embrace, tucking his head under the blond’s chin and putting his hand over the one resting over his heart. Bee shot Enjolras a panicked look over Grantaire’s shoulder, but Enjolras just shook his head sadly in response. He would explain later how crying more isn’t necessarily a bad thing.   
Enjolras started to rock them side to side slowly as Grantaire sobbed his heart out. As Grantaire started to quiet down, Enjolras started to hum quietly. When the sobs had finally stopped and were replaced with shaky breathing, they still didn’t move away. Bee fell asleep first, and eventually Grantaire fell asleep out of sheer emotional exhaustion. Enjolras debated his options as he rested his cheek against Grantaire’s curls. He decided to slip out and ease Grantaire back down to the couch, then scooped up Bee and placed her back in her nest of blankets.   
Knowing he wouldn’t go back to sleep for a while, Enjolras headed to the kitchen and heated up hot chocolate. He curled up in the armchair next to the couch and pretended to read, but his eyes were drawn by the haggard sight of Grantaire. He rested peacefully now, but the tears tracks were still visible. 

“Enj. Enj, are you up?”  
“I am now,” Enjolras grumbled as he opened his eyes. The red blob in his vision focused to become Bee staring down at him expectantly. “What’s up?”  
Bee pointed at the now empty couch and then at the ceiling.   
“Grantaire’s up?” Enjolras asked. Bee nodded. “Would it be okay if I talk to him?” She nodded again, looking relieved.   
Enjolras started the long journey up the two flights of stairs to the attic.   
“Grantaire? Can I come in?”   
“Just a minute,” came Grantaire’s voice. Enjolras shifted nervously from foot to foot as he waited to address last night.   
The door opened and Grantaire stepped back to let Enjolras though while running a towel through his freshly washed hair.   
Grantaire made as though to close the door but seemed to remember only Bee was left in the house and instead walked toward Enjolras. The two sat rather stiffly on the couch.   
“So what happened?” Enjolras asked after Grantaire didn’t say anything a bit.   
“Nightmare.”  
Enjolras was tempted to snap back but remembered his promise to change.   
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
“I don’t think I need to. It’s in the past, talking won’t change anything.”  
“If you have nightmares like this often, I would recommend seeing someone about it and talking is the next best thing.”  
“I don’t have them that often.”  
“I think you’re lying. Bee didn’t seem at all surprised by your having a nightmare.”  
At the mention of his sister, Grantaire uncrossed his arms from his defensive stance, sighed, and ran a hand over his face.   
“You should at least think about getting help for you sisters sake,” Enjolras told him.   
“I know,” Grantaire snapped. “I know I’m screwed up and it prevents her from having a normal childhood. I know. But I don’t have any other options, this is just the life we both have to live.”   
They sat in silence for a little while longer.  
“Grantaire, why are you staying here over the summer?”  
Grantaire looked at his hands. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”   
“You’ve only been here for two years, how long have you not had a home?”  
“Since I was fourteen.”  
“Seven years?” Enjolras asked incredulously.   
“Five,” Grantaire corrected, though his mind was clearly in a different time.   
“Wait.” Enjolras knew there was more important information he should have gotten from this conversation but he was distracted. “That math doesn’t work. You just finished sophomore year and you said you were held back a year so you should already be or nearly be twenty-one, so either it’s been five years and you were sixteen or it’s been seven years and you were fourteen.”  
Grantaire groaned. “I wasn’t going to… nevermind. I’m nineteen, actually.”   
“Wait what?!”   
For the first time since his nightmare, Grantaire smiled, even if it was small and more out of exasperation at Enjolras than joy.   
“I was sixteen when I met Jehan and he followed me home because he was concerned apparently… and picked the lock… and made me dinner while I was napping. Anyway, I was a junior and he was a sophomore at the time, but we had both skipped a grade but I didn’t tell him that, so I said I was held back a grade instead.”  
“Oh.” Enjolras felt bad to say the least. All this time he believed the lie that Grantaire was held back a grade, and even believed Grantaire when he had said it was because he hadn’t done his homework.   
“I know what your thinking, Enj,” Grantaire said. “I didn’t want you to know, so it’s not your fault.”  
Instead of trying to argue back, Enjolras continued with his investigation.   
“Where are your parents? Is your mom in jail?”   
Grantaire looked up, startled. “Bee told you about that?”  
“Yes.”  
“What all did she tell you.”  
“Just that your mom went crazy and tried to kill her.”  
Grantaire nodded absentmindedly. “Well, she’s dead now.”  
“I’m sorry.” Grantaire gave him a look, so apparently Enjolras was the only one that was sorry.   
“Is your dad alive?”  
“Unfortunately.” Enjolras waited for Grantaire to keep talking, but the artist stayed silent. He didn’t really have to say anything.   
“I’m so sorry, Taire,” Enjolras whispered because what else could he say?  
“You didn’t do anything.”  
“I did, though. I thought you were lazy and didn’t care about anything and that’s why you were held back a grade and slept until noon. I spent all that time talking about fighting for the oppressed while treating the person in our group who suffered the most like dirt. I was one of the people I fought against.” By the end of this tirade Enjolras was pacing the room.   
“Enj,” Grantaire said, grabbing his arm. “I already said I forgave you. You just need to forgive yourself. You’re not perfect, no matter how much you seem to be sometimes.”  
Enjolras nodded even though his mind was a whirlwind of counterarguments. He wrapped his arms around Grantaire. It was hard to tell who was comforting whom as they stood swaying slightly.   
Both boys jumped when a smaller pair of arms wrapped around the both of them. They dropped onto their knees so that Bee was part of the group hug.


	7. Return to Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras gets to witness first hand some of the issues the siblings are still dealing with, namely R's mental breakdowns.

After a blur of work, movie nights, forts, and date nights that ended in finding Joly frantically fixing whatever chaos a sugar crazy Bee and Jehan caused while Combeferre sat seemingly oblivious to it all, Enjolras found himself walking to Grantaire’s work just as he did every week day afternoon. Because he finished his internship hours before Grantaire finished work, he would pick up Bee and take her home.   
“I can’t go back!” Enjolras snapped out of his thoughts as Bee’s voice travelled through the open window of the abandoned cafe.   
Neither sibling seemed to notice the bell that sounded when Enjolras walked in.   
“Yes you can, you just get used to them, focus on your studies, and stop acting out! I don’t want to you to be stuck here your entire life.”   
“I’m not ‘stuck’ here, I want to be here. My family is here Taire, you can’t make me leave!”  
“We’ll still be here when you get back and we’ll stay in touch. We have this conversation every year so I know that you know how great of an opportunity this school is.”  
“You don’t have to send me away to protect me anymore. I know you still want to protect me from your mind but I can handle it.”   
To hear Bee, who had started talking more like a kid recently, revert back to her mature and formal way of speaking threw Enjolras back in time. He was once again facing the angry and scared kid pretending to be an adult.   
“You can’t stay with me!” Grantaire yelled, causing both Bee and Enjolras to jump. The artist ducked into the backroom of the cafe while wiping his eyes.   
Bee made to follow her brother but Enjolras grabbed her arm.   
“Let go of me, Enjolras!” she cried. “Let go! Let go!” She sobbed occasionally shrieked all while trying to hit Enjolras as hard as she could with her elbow and kicking her feet. She gave up trying to reach her brother and tried to instead escape out the front door.   
Because the little girl knew it was him and he didn’t want her to run into the street or something, Enjolras didn’t let go. He sat on the dirty floor and pulled her onto his lap. His mom had told him a while ago about what she did when he threw angry tantrums as a kid and he tried to use that knowledge now. He wrapped his arms tightly around her so that her arms were pinned down and therefore not able to give him anymore bruises and then wrapped a leg around both of hers so she couldn’t kick him either.   
He sat rocking her on the cold ground until his arms and legs were sore from straining to restrain her and she had finally cried herself out.   
“Do you promise not to hit me if I let go?” he asked her when she had finally gone slack in his arms. He slackened his grip but didn’t let go when she nodded.   
“You know, there are better ways of dealing with anger.”   
“Yes, Papa.” Bee was clearly trying to be sarcastic but she sounded too miserable for it to work.   
“Well Papa says it’s time for a nap.”   
“I’m eight, not six.”  
Enjolras picked her up like a toddler anyway.   
“I’m going to peak in the backroom to make sure your brother’s okay,” Enjolras told her. He poked his head into the crowded and dusty storage room.  
“R?” he called softly.   
“I’m fine. Just go home.” Grantaire’s voice sounded muffled and it wavered slightly.  
Ignoring his orders, Enjolras crept further into the room. He found Grantaire curled up in a corner with his face buried in his arms.   
“I told you to go.”   
“We needed to make sure you were okay,” Enjolras told him. Bee remained silent.   
Grantaire wiped his nose and looked up with red eyes.   
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I think we just need some cool down time.”   
Enjolras shifted Bee in his arms to he could card his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. His boyfriend leaned his head back so that it rested against Enjolras’ thigh.   
A bell sounded from out in the main room.  
“That’s my manager,” Grantaire told them. “You guys can go.”   
Now that he knew Grantaire had someone to look out for him, he grabbed his and Bee’s bags and passed Mabeuf to get to the front door.   
“You two are such good dads,” Mabeuf told him cheerfully. Enjolras froze.  
“Well actually she’s Grantaire’s sister.”  
“Ah, an adoption within the family then. I’m glad she came to be adopted by you two.”  
Enjolras was about to protest but then again, he was the one who was always saying ‘dad’ is for anyone who fulfills a traditional fatherly role. “Me too.”

Bee was asleep by the time they reached their house and Enjolras’ arms were about to fall off. He tried to set her on the couch gently but in reality he pretty much dropped her. Just as he sat down to rest off the emotionally strenuous day when his phone started buzzing. He quickly ducked outside.  
“Hello?”  
“Enjolras! You answered!”  
“Hi, Mom.”  
“How have you been? How’s the internship? Have you found a boyfriend? How-”  
Enjolras cut her off before he lost track of all the questions. “Well, um, there is something interesting going on…”  
“A good interesting or a bad interesting?” His mom asked, immediately concerned.  
“It’s a good interesting, it’s just a bit new and scary.”   
“Well, what is it?”   
“I sort of unofficially adopted a child.”  
Silence.  
“Mom?”  
Enjolras jumped and held his phone away from his ear as his mom squealed. “I HAVE A GRANDCHILD???!!! Can I come visit? I promise not to embarass you this time!”   
“Mom, you’re already visiting in a month.”  
“But I want to visit now.” It was funny how backwards his relationship with his mom was.   
“She has some issues she’s got going on so I don’t want to introduce her to new people too soon.”  
“Okay, I understand.”  
“She’s the sister of my boyfriend, by the way.”  
“I HAVE A SON-IN-LAW???!!!”  
“Mom!”

Enjolras woke up a few hours later curled up on the arm chair. He panicked a bit when he noticed the empty couch and ran upstairs to find Bee calmly coloring on the floor of her room.  
“You could’ve woken me up you know,” he told her.   
“I can look after myself,” she said as though it were obvious.   
“I don’t think that’s normal for a second grader.” Of course he had no experience with children so he didn’t know for sure.   
“I’m in fourth grade,” Bee told him. She had already lost interest in the conversation and had turned back to her drawing.   
“You skipped a grade, too?” Nothing surprised him about Bee or her brother anymore.   
“Grantaire told you about that?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Good. He never gets the credit he deserves. He just lets everyone think he’s lazy when he’s crazy smart.” Enjolras smiled softly and sat next to her.   
“You know he’s just trying to do what’s best for you, right?” He asked quietly.  
“Of course I know, but that doesn’t mean I agree with him. But I guess he has a right to want me to go away; most people don’t have to take care of their sisters while putting themselves through college.”   
“I don’t think it’s a matter of work. I don’t think any amount of work would be too much for him if it meant keeping you safe and happy, I think he just worries about how good of a parent he can be.”  
“It’s because of his drinking isn’t it?”  
Enjolras looked up, startled. “You know about that?”  
Bee met his eyes for a second before looking away. “I’m not supposed to but I know the symptoms of withdrawal and I found some bottles and overheard some stuff.”   
“Are you angry with him?” He needed to know because the only way Enjolras could make up for his past mistakes was to make sure others didn’t repeat them.  
“He’s mad enough at himself, he doesn’t need other people to be mad.”  
“So why does he do it?”  
Bee hesitated before answering. “He has things he wants to forget.”   
“Oh, R,” Enjolras sighed as though Grantaire could hear them.  
“‘Oh R’ indeed.” 

Enjolras was making dinner when Grantaire came home.   
“Hey, how was work?”  
Grantaire didn’t answer and instead came up behind Enjolras and leaned his head on Enjolras’ shoulder.   
“I’m sorry,” Enjolras told him, getting the message.   
“I should talk to Bee, shouldn’t I?” Grantaire mumbled.  
“Yeah, probably. But first can you watch the pasta?”  
Thanks to Mabeuf’s comment, Enjolras was thinking about how much he and Grantaire acted as Bee’s parents. There they were, cooking together and then calling for their kid to set the table before eating together.   
When they had cleared the dishes away, Grantaire called Bee over to the kitchen table.   
“Do you want me to go?” Enjolras asked hesitantly.   
“I think you’re in too deep to be sheltered from our problems so as long as you're okay with it you can stay,” Grantaire told him dryly. Enjolras pulled up a chair.  
“I know that whenever you go away you think that something bad is happening to me and I’m not telling you, but I’ll be fine. I have a good support system but that doesn’t mean I’m qualified to raise a kid. I’m a mess and I’m a bad influence,” Grantaire started.   
“I think you’re underestimating me. You won’t have to wait on me hand and foot or anything, and I can help you.”  
“You don’t know what you’re up against.”  
“I know you’re an alcoholic, Taire.” Bee said quietly after a moment.  
Grantaire stared at his hands for a while until Bee grabbed one of them with her own.   
“I’m not afraid of you doing anything when you’re drunk, I just want you to be safe.”  
“You won’t be happy to be stuck here as a nobody, you can go really far at this school. You shouldn’t have to give up your future to look after your mess of an older brother.”  
“I don’t think it’s in either of our best interests that I go. I know you’re blaming yourself for a lot of things, but this shouldn’t be one of them. I don’t want to go back and I don’t want you to be alone. You’ve taken care of me my whole life, let me take care of you.”  
“And the rest of us can help too, Taire,” Enjolras added. “We really don’t mind spending time with her. I think everyone’s been happier even.”  
“Yeah, you’re stuck with me now. I’m now Enjolras’ mom’s only grandchild.”  
“Wait, you heard that?” Enjolras asked.   
“She’s not very quiet.”   
“Fair enough.”  
“Look, Bumblebee. I’ll let you make this decision based on what you think is best for you, not anyone else. And I want you to think about it for a bit longer.”   
“Okay,” Bee chirped. “I’m going to dress up Jehan’s cacti so they’ll be ready to act out act two of Hamlet with us.”   
“Sentences you don’t expect to hear everyday,” Enjolras commented as he watched be skip out of the room.   
“What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm as he turned to see Grantaire with his face in his hands.   
“This isn’t a good idea,” Grantaire groaned, shaking his head.   
“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked as he walked over to his boyfriend and started to rub his back.   
“I give it three months before I have some sort of a breakdown and relapse.”  
“Will you try to sober up for good if she stays?” Enjolras asked trying to keep the hope out of his voice.   
“I guess I’ll have to. It’s so much easier to deal with during the summer when I know it’s temporary, I don’t know if I can do it.”   
“Taire, look at me.” He pulled Grantaire’s hands away from his face and held them in each of his own. “I have total faith in you. Just because you might have setbacks doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. You have me and you have your sister, and if you don’t want her to be part of it, we can send her to my mom or something if it gets rough. We can do this.”   
The faintest spark of hope lit up in Grantaire’s tired eyes. “Okay,” he whispered. 

The summer continued on without a problem, with Grantaire and Enjolras taking turns to look after Bee and the occasional Amis babysitting so they could have a date night. So basically their summer was spent, according to Courfeyrac, being “domestic af.” What made them seem even more domestic was the fact Bee had kept calling him “Papa” until at one point it wasn’t sarcastic anymore. Grantaire only encouraged it by saying things like “go get your Papa for dinner.” But, just as Grantaire predicted, there was a setback.   
“Have you seen R yet?” Enjolras asked Bee. The little girl was “helping” everyone move back into the apartment and was currently perched on the pile of boxes that had accumulated.   
Bee, who had been laughing at something Joly was saying, looked up at him suddenly with wide eyes.   
“No,” she said, starting to chew on her thumb. “I thought he was at work.” One major milestone they had made in giving the siblings a normally functioning family was getting over Bee’s need to know exactly where Grantaire was at all times. Sure Grantaire always needed to know where Bee was as part of his parental instincts, but as a kid it was normal to trust your parental figure to be able to take care of themselves and come home as promised unharmed.   
“I’m sure he’s just off doing a project or something, I’ll look for him. You stay and help the others,” Enjolras told her, hoping to keep all of her old fears from coming back full force.   
Enjolras made his way up toward the attic while dodging his friends along with the boxes, laundry baskets, and houseplants they were carrying. In contrast to this chaos, the attic was perfectly still and silent.   
“Taire?” Enjolras called quietly after gently rapping on the door. He was met with silence.   
Just as he was debating whether to just barge in, the door creaked open slowly revealing a very dishevelled Grantaire.   
“Hey, Enj. Sorry to worry you, I just slept in,” Grantaire said with a smile that looked more like a grimace.   
“What’s wrong?” Enjolras asked gently, ignoring Grantaire’s feeble attempt at appearing fine. He took Grantaire’s hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles.   
That was all it took to break the younger man’s facade. A soft, broken sob escaped his lips as he quickly looked at his feet.   
“Oh, Taire,” Enjolras whispered and he quickly drew his boyfriend in for a hug. They sat silently for a few minutes, Grantaire apparently not having the energy to cry anymore.   
“What’s wrong?” Enjolras asked again. Grantaire shrugged and gave no other explanation.   
“Have you eaten?” Another shrug. Enjolras texted Jehan to send food.   
“Do you want to maybe get out of bed?” A shrug.   
“Movie?” Shrug.  
“Movie it is.” Enjolras texted for Jehan to bring his computer since he didn’t want to leave Grantaire alone.   
Grantaire lay back down and stared at the wall some more, so Enjolras just absentmindedly combed his fingers through his hair.   
“Papa?” Enjolras looked up to see Bee lurking in the doorway.   
“It’ll be okay, Bumblebee,” Enjolras told her with a weak smile.   
“It won’t be because you called me that.”   
“Don’t worry about me,” Grantaire mumbled. “Go find Jehan.”   
Bee opened her mouth as though to say something but then decided to just chew on her thumb and walked away.   
“Can you check on her?” Grantaire asked quietly. “I’ll be fine,” he added in response to the worried look Enjolras gave him.   
“Bee?” Enjolras called once he got to the common area of the attic.   
“Down here,” came the reply.   
Bee was curled up at the bottom of the attic stairs, sniffling.   
“He’ll be fine, Bumblebee,” Enjolras told her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  
“I never know what to do,” Bee sobbed. “I can never help him. Never could.”   
“You’re just a kid, there isn’t much you can do. You just have to be there for him if he needs you.”  
“Well obviously he needs me!”  
“I think he still feels like he needs to protect you. It’s just what older brothers do.”   
“Why can’t we be okay.” Bee started crying even harder. “Why can’t we ever just be okay.”   
Enjolras shifted so that he had both arms around the girl and rested his chin on the top of her head.  
“You know, it’s not too late for you to go back to your old school.”   
Bee pushed against him so that she looked him in the eye.   
“That would be even worse! I wouldn’t know what’s going on! He never tells me anything. I kept thinking the next time he showed up he’d be dead.”  
Enjolras let the girl cry all over his shirt for a bit longer before making his proposal.  
“What if you stayed with my mom came and hung out with you during the day and then you can come home and check in with Grantaire every night?”  
“Doesn’t your mom live on the other side of the country?”  
“She’s been wanting to visit anyway, we’ll just move up her trip by a week.”  
“But I want to help.”  
“Grantaire’s pretty adamant about not wanting you to worry over him,” Enjolras reminded her.   
Bee sighed and gave a resigned “okay.”   
Just then, Jehan appeared carrying a grocery bag of snacks and Enjolras’ laptop.   
“Thanks,” Enjolras told him, then gestured pointedly to Bee.  
“Hey, Bee. Do you want to come to my poetry reading? You can sit with Bahorel and Joly in the audience while I’m up and then I’ll come sit by you.”  
Bee glanced suspiciously at Enjolras, clearly aware that he had orchestrated the whole thing.   
“Sure,” she relented. Enjolras helped her to her feet, but held her back as she made to follow the poet.   
“I promise I’ll take care of him, okay?”  
“No secrets?” she asked sternly.  
“No secrets,” Enjolras told her. They shook on it. 

While Grantaire and Enjolras were curled up to watch a movie, Enjolras sent a text asking his mom to come watch Bee for the week. As expected, he got an enthusiastic response.   
The next morning, he left Grantaire to sleep in and greeted his mom who had gotten an overnight flight.   
“There’s my boy!” His mom announced as soon as he opened the door.  
“Mom,” Enjolras groaned like a longsuffering teenager.   
“Where’s my grandaughter? I’m going to take good care of her. Oh, Combeferre, how have you been?”   
Enjolras rolled his eyes playfully as his mom went around to fuss over everyone who had the misfortune of being up so early in the morning. He hurried up the stairs toward Bee’s room. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he knocked against the wall nearest the curtain that acted as Bee’s door and called her name.   
A very groggy Bee with some impressive bedhead poked her head out and grunted at him.  
“My mom’s here,” he told her. “Maybe brush your hair before you go down.”   
The girl grumbled a bit but nodded. 

“She’s on her way,” Enjolras told his mom once he had made it back downstairs.  
“Great,” she answered with a blinding smile before turning more serious. “I hate to ask, dear, but is everything alright? Is there a reason you had me come early?”  
Enjolras sighed. “Her brother is sick so neither of us can really look after her. So be aware that she might seem a bit anxious. Also she doesn’t really like strangers all that much so it’s nothing personal if she’s a bit icy at first.” At least Bee’s introduction to his mom would probably go smoother than their introduction to each other.   
“What about their parents?”  
“Grantaire is her only guardian,” Enjolras answered, avoiding both the entire truth and his mom’s eyes.   
He looked up again after he heard a quiet, emotional gasp from his mom. Bee had finally made it downstairs and was currently trying to steal some of Enjolras’ coffee.   
“No,” he told her sternly. “I love the effort you put into combing your hair, by the way. Let’s go meet my mom.”   
“Hi,” his mom greeted gently with a watery smile. “I’m Enj’s mom but you can call me Marianne or grandma.”  
“Okay,” Bee answered but didn’t give any indication as to her decision.   
Enjolras ruffled her still quite tangled hair and nudged her forward a bit.   
“Just call if you need anything,” he told his mom. Everyone jumped as a crash came from the attic. Enjolras took in a sharp breath before crouching down in front of Bee, who was biting at her thumb again and looking at him with wide eyes.   
“Everything is fine, call whenever you want. My mom is going to take good care of you while I take care of Taire, okay? I promised.”  
Once Bee nodded her understanding, Enjolras hurried upstairs. He felt bad for leaving the girl with a practical stranger but he knew she would be fine. Her brother on the other hand…


	8. A shift to phase 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the angst of Enjolras' sophomore year winds down, he faces new problems a couple years later he and Grantaire graduate college and plan the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: just angst, temporary breakup, and Grantaire's amazing self-esteem
> 
> There's a time jump so don't get confused. Some of this turned into a vent so I'm sorry

Enjolras took the stairs two at a time up to the attic.   
“What happened?” He asked, hurriedly throwing open the door.   
Grantaire stood in his wrinkled and paint stained pajamas, breathing heavily and doubled over slightly. At the base of a wall across from him, a puddle was soaking into the carpet underneath a pile of glass.   
“Taire? Are you okay?” Enjolras asked panickedly as he quickly checked Grantaire over for injuries. He pried open Grantaire’s fists to make sure he didn’t have any cuts from the glass. Only finding half moon nail marks, he cupped Grantaire’s face.   
“Grantaire,” he said quietly. He waited silently until, several seconds later, Grantaire finally looked at him.   
“Enjolras,” he said as though he had just noticed him. The tenseness melted from his frame, sending him stumbling forward weakly.   
Enjolras wrapped an arm around Grantaire’s waist to support him while he used his other hand to guide his boyfriend’s head in to the crook of his neck.   
“I can’t do this,” Grantaire whispered.  
“You can. You can. I know you can.” Enjolras started rocking a bit, comforting himself almost as much as his sobbing boyfriend.   
Grantaire shook his head but didn’t say anything.   
His hyperventilating eventually calmed to quiet crying and they settled back onto the bed.   
“Where did that bottle come from?” Enjolras asked after a little while of sitting in silence.  
“Secret stash,” Grantaire mumbled.   
“Is there any more of it?” Grantaire shook his head.  
“Did you drink any of it?” Enjolras asked. Again, Grantaire shook his head.  
“Well that’s something to be proud of,” Enjolras said, but he could here just how strained his own voice was.   
“You’re gonna wear yourself down looking after me,” Grantaire told him.   
“I’m in this for the long haul,” was all Enjolras could say, knowing lying would do no good.   
“You could date anyone. It would probably require a lot less babysitting.”  
“Hey.” Enjolras flicked Grantaire’s arm. “I’ll have you know I very much enjoy looking after your sister.”  
“I didn’t just mean her.”   
Enjolras sighed but didn’t argue, knowing it would do no good.   
“You should shower,” he told Grantaire after their second movie.  
Grantaire sighed and made no move to get up.   
“Come on.” Enjolras dragged Grantaire to his feet and other to the stairs. Grantaire shuffled miserably behind him.   
Enjolras sat Grantaire on the edge of the tub in the bathroom shared by Grantaire, Jehan, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and, as of late, Bee. Technically it was meant for everyone on the top floor but the others started using the ground floor one when the chaos became too much for them.   
Enjolras plucked a random shampoo bottle out of the pile of them. Luckily, most of them appeared to be 3-in-1 except for those owned by Courfeyrac.   
He shoved it into Grantaire’s hand along with a towel. Reaching around the artist, he turned on the water. Grantaire didn’t react as the spray of water hit him.   
“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need anything.” Enjolras started walking out but stopped when he realized Grantaire probably hadn’t heard anything he had said.   
“Look, this will make you feel better. If you won’t do it for yourself, at least do it so Bee won’t worry.” His own manipulation made him feel nauseous but he knew how difficult a task he was asking of Grantaire when he was in this state and he knew it would be good for him.   
Grantaire stood up slowly, so Enjolras took his leave. 

Enjolras heaved himself onto the couch in the second floor common area with a heavy sigh.   
Over the course of Grantaire’s episode, Enjolras had become familiar with the feeling of helplessness and exhaustion that came from constantly worrying about Grantaire.   
“It’s not up to you.”   
Enjolras shrieked as Courfeyrac all but appeared next to him. Normally when Courfeyrac walked into a room, everyone noticed- he himself made sure of that- so Enjolras didn’t know how he had missed him.   
“What?” Enjolras asked as he got over his shock.   
“It’s not up to you,” Courfeyrac said, gesturing to the bathroom. “You’re taking all of this on your shoulders, making it seem like it’s up to you whether he gets through this. It’s up to him.”   
“What can I do though?”  
“You can help him, listen to him, but in the end, you can’t feel responsible for him entirely. You help him with his burden but you can’t completely take it from him.” Courfeyrac’s normally cheerful eyes held a rare look of seriousness.   
“That was quite poetic. You’ve been spending too much time with Jehan.”  
“Yeah. I have.” Then, like the dramatic prick he was, he left.   
Grantaire appeared a moment later, looking exhausted but a lot more put together than he was before.   
“How are you feeling?”   
“A bit better,” he said. He did sound a bit better, but that only put him at terrible instead of positively miserable.   
Enjolras felt a twinge of disappointment that Grantaire wasn’t magically healed even if he knew it was ridiculous, but at least he was no longer consumed with guilt at not doing enough. 

“Taire?” Bee’s grin at seeing her brother out of his room made the hours of weedling on Enjolras’ part worth it.   
“Son, help your mother would you?” Enjolras’ mom appeared carrying three shopping bags on each arm and two more in each hand.   
“This is more stuff than you sent me off to college with. What all did get?” Then he paused. “Wait, did you try to bribe her into liking you?”  
“No, of course not. We came to an agreement and then I realized my purpose as a grandma is to spoil my grandchild.” She dumped her bags into Enjolras’ arms.   
“Hi, I’m Enjolras’ mother Marianne,” she greeted, holding her hand out to Grantaire.   
Grantaire stood shakily, having not eaten much in the past few days, and took it.   
“Thank you for everything. I hope she didn’t cause too much trouble.” He ruffled Bee’s hair.   
“No, we had a lot of fun. Why don’t you go help Enjolras put everything away while I talk to your brother.”   
“Okay, Grandma,” Bee said, though she hovered near her brother.  
“I thought I was ‘grandma’,” Jehan said with a frown.  
“Nearly everyone in my class said they had two grandmas,” Bee pointed out.  
That mollified him.   
“Let’s go, Bumblebee.” Enjolras headed toward the stairs, followed by a reluctant eight-year-old.   
“Will he be okay?” Bee asked once they had made it up a flight of stairs.   
“Yes. Besides, there’s nothing we could do to stop her.”   
They sorted the clothes, books, toys, etc. Based on how hyper Bee was acting, Enjolras guessed that his mother had also spoiled the girl with sugar.  
“It’s time for you to start getting ready for bed, I’ll go make sure my mom is being nice.”  
“Okay.”

“You’re doing fine, sweetheart. You make him happy, that’s the important thing.”  
Enjolras’ mom stood rubbing Grantaire’s back gently, just like he had seen her do with his father after a stressful day.   
“Everything okay?” Enjolras asked. He placed his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder as well.   
“Not for me to say,” Marianne said, raising her hands and backing away.   
“Thanks for coming Mom,” Enjolras told her once he had checked that Grantaire had calmed.   
“Of course, dear. I’m proud of you.”  
“Why?”  
His mother looked thoughtful. “I was worried about you. You were so wrapped up in your work I thought you’d turn into a Scrooge.”   
“Or Dad?”  
“Yeah. But look at you now! You’re quite the family man now.” His mom blinked away tears.   
Enjolras gave her a comforting hug, which she reciprocated only after pulling Grantaire into it too.   
“Well,” she said after pulling apart, “I had better head to my hotel. As much as I love your home, it’s much better suited for college boys than old ladies.”

Grantaire’s episode finally ended a few days later, the boys started to drown in their classes again, and even Bahorel studied occasionally. Bee finally made a friend a few years her senior named Eponine who would come over after school sometimes.   
The Les Amis meeting resumed after the disaster of the last protest. Bee colored in the corner booth and smirked along to Grantaire’s comments and adding in some of her own on occasion.   
Their college years were actually fairly normal considering that Enjolras and Grantaire were raising a child. It probably helped that they had eight babysitters that all worked for free.   
Just like Enjolras had become ‘Papa’ (so in complete sarcasm that turned genuine), the others had become honorary members of Bee’s family. Combeferre and Joly were Mama and Mom respectively, Jehan was Grandmother whereas Enjolras’ mom was Grandma, and Bossuet became Grandpa, not because he was already experiencing hair loss but because he told stories about “back in the day” and would frequently try to do magic tricks that normally ended with him dropping a prop on his foot. Enjolras hoped that one day his dad might become Grandfather, but he wasn’t sure how accepting his dad would be of his family situation. The rest of the group were uncles while Musichetta was an aunt. 

“Why don’t you call Grantaire your dad?” Enjolras asked one day over a year after he first met Bee. “He’s your legal guardian and does far more parenting than me.”   
Bee looked up from her book and cocked her head, thinking.   
“It wasn’t hard to refer to the rest of you by different names since I just met you. And Grantaire has always been just ‘Grantaire.’ He’s my main parental role but he’s also biologically my brother and it just would be a weird transition.”  
“And because you don’t sass him enough for it to become a nickname like with the rest of us.”  
Bee smiled. “That too.” 

When Bee was ten years old, Enjolras and Grantaire were near graduation. While all their other friends had stayed after graduation, working or going to graduate school or something, Enjolras was in the middle of a debate over where to go. Hidden at the bottom of his backpack was an invitation to one of the best law schools in the nation. Part of him wanted to go; it had been his dream to become a lawyer and defend the oppressed. However, he would have to leave the friends he grew up with, the ones he recently made, the house he had lived in for four years, his boyfriend of two years, and his daughter.   
He knew he should just talk to Grantaire, but he could never bring himself to. Everyone said he was the brave one, as their leader, but recently all he had been doing was running away.  
He trudged across the parking lot of the middle school that Bee had started that school year. Like usual, he ignored the other parents waiting to pick up their kids from track practice giving him weird looks for being ten years younger than them. A few years ago, he would have launched into a lecture about being judgmental prats, but he had since learned that sometimes it was okay to leave people to their opinions, so instead he watched with a small smile as Bee ran with her friends, going from a fierce determination to a light hearted frolick once she crossed the finish line.   
Enjolras looked down at his phone while the team was in an end of practice huddle, so he nearly fell when Bee came barrelling into him.   
“Hello,” she said cheerfully while Enjolras tried to straighten without hurting his ribs. Around them, the other tweens were joining their parents with barely any acknowledgement, but Bee always greeted him like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks.   
“How was practice, Bumblebee?” He asked. As Bee chatted, Enjolras could only smile sadly. How could he move away from that smile?   
When they got home, they headed upstairs to the attic. Bee started her homework so she could get some done before one of the others inevitably distracted her. Enjolras started his own work as they waited for Grantaire.   
“How are you liking your school?” Enjolras asked suddenly after a half an hour of silence.   
“It’s good,” Bee said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him.   
“Are your teachers good?”  
“Yeah. Why? Do you want to fight one of them again?”  
“He deserved it.” Earlier that year Bee had decked a guy a couple years older than her because he was harassing Eponine, so Enjolras accompanied Grantaire to the parent-principal meeting that followed. The fifteen minute meeting lasted nearly an hour because the principal had tried to blame Bee.   
“Do you have a lot of friends?”  
“Yes… Do you not listen when I talk to you? Why are you acting weird?”   
“No reason.”   
“Are you moving?” Enjolras froze and it felt like ice water was running down his spine.   
“No,” he said far too quickly.   
Bee’s eyes widened and filled with tears before she blinked and schooled her features.   
“That’s exciting for you,” she said without emotion.  
“Bumblebee,” he said miserably. He sat in front of where she lay on her stomach. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet, I’m just seeing what possibilities I have.”  
“Okay.” Bee was trying for a cheerful tone but it fell painfully flat.   
And now he remembered why he had been avoiding this.   
“I’m home!” Grantaire hollered from downstairs.   
“Pipe down, some of us don’t have time for college student antics!” Courfeyrac yelled back, just like he did every day. They had hoped Courfeyrac would stop making “college student” jokes after his first month in law school, but even as the end of the year was approaching, Enjolras, Grantaire, Jehan, and Comberre were still suffering. Poor Jehan had another year after this one.   
Grantaire walked in with a grin on his face that faltered when he surveyed the faces of the other two.   
“What were you talking about?” He asked cautiously.   
Bee looked at Enjolras and jerked her head toward her brother. Enjolras obeyed, grabbed his backpack, and shuffled out of the room, dragging Grantaire along with him.   
“So what’s going on?”  
Instead of saying anything, Enjolras dug out the acceptance letter and handed it to Grantaire. He fidgeted as he waited Grantaire to finish reading.   
“You got in, that’s great!” Grantaire said with a strained voice.   
“I don’t want to go.”  
“Enj, I know this has been a goal of yours since you were young.”  
“Would you come with me?”  
Grantaire gave him a pained look and shook his head slowly.  
“I can’t uproot Bee. She’s just started fitting in, and besides the boarding school, this is the only home she’s ever known.”  
“I can just stay,” Enjolras said simply.  
“Enj, you know they always tell you not to choose schools based on romances.”  
“That’s more for choosing a college.”  
Grantaire sighed. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on an opportunity. And besides, you should give yourself a chance to see other people.”  
“Are… Are you breaking up with me?” Enjolras asked quietly. He blinked rapidly as his eyes started to burn.  
“I don’t want to, but it isn’t fair to you. I’m your first official boyfriend so you have nothing to compare me to. I don’t want you to miss out on someone because your stuck with me.”  
“I’m not stuck-”  
“Enjolras. If we’re going to continue dating, I want to know that you were fully aware of all your opportunities.”   
“You’re never going to let this go,” Enjolras said sadly.   
“Depending where we end up in the future, we can start again. And this time we can know for sure this is what we want.” It was interesting how Grantaire’s ‘we’ clearly only meant Enjolras.  
“Fine,” Enjolras said as he wiped at his nose, “but if we’re going to break up because of me moving, we’re going to do it the minute I’m on the plane. Also, you get to tell Bee.”   
Grantaire nodded silently and walked away.  
Enjolras walked over to the sink and splashed some water on his face, hoping it would wash away the evidence of his tears. He stared out the window blankly until running feet made him turn around.   
A sobbing Bee appeared down the stairs threw her arms around his waist.   
“You’re moving and breaking up with Taire?” Bee asked angrily. It looked as though she wanted to punch him again but didn’t want to let go either.   
Enjolras just sighed and stroked her hair while she cried into his shirt.   
“Grantaire feels like I can do better and just don’t know it. This is necessary for him to feel better about us.”  
“Are you still gonna be my Papa?” she asked while finally looking up at him with watery eyes. Suddenly she was the scared eight-year-old who just wanted her brother instead of the confident 10-year-old.   
“Of course I am. I’ll be your Papa as long as you want me to be.”  
“I love you.”  
Now it was Enjolras’ turn to start crying. He knew why Grantaire wanted them to take a break, but this was about more than the two of them.   
“I love you too.” 

Enjolras and Grantaire still dated, ignoring their dread of the day Enjolras would leave. He and Bee were also trying to make the most of their time together, but Bee was more distant and angrier, just as she had been when she first arrived. They sorted out when Bee would be staying with Enjolras, but because of the distance she could only visit for a few weeks out of the year and his mom would probably keep trying to steal her. 

“This isn’t good for Bee,” Enjolras tried to argue once. He tried over and over again to make Grantaire see that there were other options.   
“If you really don’t want to go you don’t have to, but if you do want to, it’s not like you’re never going to see her.”   
“If I stayed, could we stay together?”  
Grantaire looked away. “I still think we should see other people.”  
Enjolras sighed, having given up trying to convince Grantaire he knew what he was doing.

The day before Enjolras was set to leave, the entire group had a movie night. Bee had long since fallen asleep against Enjolras. Everyone else was awake, but it was hard to tell since they were all more subdued than usual. Grantaire had spent the last few weeks finding excuses to avoid Enjolras while Bee’s behavior took a dramatic turn. She had started acting out again and crying at random times, but Grantaire still refused to back down from his belief Enjolras should leave.   
Enjolras wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. He had dreamed of going to this school, and even with all the drama part of him was still excited. But he had responsibilities beyond himself.   
He sighed deeply, causing Bee to stir a little bit as her pillow moved. He looked down at her, then at Grantaire who was gazing at the screen without really seeing, and then at his other friends.  
“I’ll miss you,” he told them.  
“We’ll miss you too Enj,” Jehan said just as Combeferre muttered, “It’s not like you’re going off to war.”   
They all fell asleep in the living room in various nests of blankets, except for Enjolras, Grantaire, and Bee who had taken the couch.   
Enjolras stayed up late into the night, long after everyone else, thinking about how hard it would be to leave his family.


	9. Their father enters the picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Enjolras is hitting a low point in his life, Grantaire and Bee show up at his door at three in the morning needing the help of both him and his mentor, Lamarque.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a bit dark in the middle. And then a bit long.  
> Warnings: minor character death, referenced child abuse, trauma, attempted murder

Enjolras spent the morning trying to move his things out to the his car while Bee clung to him like a baby koala. After half an hour of awkward shuffling yielded in only two boxes being packed, he sighed and left his friends to move everything. He felt a bit bad leaving them to do manual labor for him, but he had other things to attend to.  
He moved over to the living room where he started to gently pry open the hold Bee had around his waist and moving her to his lap. Neither of them said anything as Enjolras watched the chaos and listened to Bee sniffling into his shirt.   
After a blurred half-hour, it was time for him to go. He stood up and deposited Bee on the floor in front of him before kneeling down so they were face to face.   
For a moment, he couldn’t say anything. He could only stare at his daughter whose red-rimmed eyes matched her hair. She was taller than she was when they met, the frown lines had faded from her young face, and though she had always stood confidently, it was now the look of a queen with everyone wrapped around her finger than that of a convict approaching the gallows.   
“I know that this is just temporary but I still wanted to tell you that I’m proud of who you’ve become. Behave for Taire while I’m gone. I love you.”   
“I love you too,” she whispered as she flung her arms around his neck.   
He stayed kneeling and blinking back tears. He knew it was important for parents to cry in front of their children as a demonstration of proper coping mechanisms (he had read a lot of parenting guides over the past two years), but on habit he just blinked a couple times and made a plan to cry later.   
“Are you mad at ‘Taire?” Okay, now would be a good time to show proper handling of emotions.  
“I am,” -Bee tensed against him- “but we’ll figure it out, I’m sure. And I still love him.”   
The others came over to give him a goodbye hug but, because Bee refused to let go, just ended up giving him an awkward hug with Bee sandwiched in the middle.   
Courfeyrac wore his glitteriest jumper just to annoy Enjolras and get it all over him when they hugged, but his evil smirk was dampened by the fact he was crying the most of all the adults. Jehan read a poem about journeying that was probably a metaphor for death, Bahorel picked both him and Bee up in his hug, and Bossuet nearly took them all down while tripping on his way to hug them. Everyone promised to look after Bee and Grantaire and said that everything would work out.   
Last of all came Grantaire.  
“I understand if you don’t want-”  
“Just join the group hug,” Enjolras told him.   
As Grantaire started to pull away, Enjolras leaned in and kissed him.  
“What-?” Grantaire started, eyes wide.  
“I’m not on the other side of the country yet,” Enjolras pointed out. Grantaire smiled bitterly and turned away.   
He tried to get up to go to his car, but Bee stubbornly remained dead weight.   
“Sweetheart, I actually do need to get to the car.”   
No reaction.  
He picked Bee up a bit and made her stand on his feet so he could walk around, bringing her with. Enjolras smiled sadly when he remembered Grantaire teaching her how to dance by letting her stand on his feet.   
“What’re you thinking about, Bumblebee?” He asked as he trudged over to the kitchen to find his keys.   
“That I’m going to miss you.”  
“I’m going to miss you too. What else?” Enjolras pressed.   
Bee looked up at him a scowl. “Stop psychoanalyzing me.”   
“I wouldn’t have to if you told me what was wrong.”   
“I’m worried you’ll forget us, or find a better family. Or something will happen and we won’t know about it.”  
He remembered her saying that before. Whenever he pictured the siblings’ dad, he always saw Grantaire getting hurt and forgot there was another person being affected. “You’ve just got to trust me, Bee. That’s what relationships are built on.”  
“You got that from a fortune cookie,” she said accusingly.   
“Still, you just have to trust that I won’t forget you and I’ll be honest with you.”  
“Does that mean I shouldn’t trust Taire?” she asked quietly.   
Enjolras sighed. “I think you should always trust him except when he says ‘I’m fine’.”

Enjolras held it together until he was walking down the driveway and waving goodbye to everyone, especially Bee who was in the arms of Joly who had had to pry her away from him.   
“You’re the best family anyone could have, I don’t care what anyone else says,” Enjolras told them, all while staring defiantly at Grantaire, who eventually looked away.   
Bee burst into tears, Enjolras didn’t go to her, knowing neither would let go if he did. Combeferre put an arm around him and guided him to the car as he began to cry quietly, and then quite loudly. Combeferre rubbed his shoulder while driving, but Enjolras was inconsolable as they drove away from his family. 

Going their separate ways did not get easier the more they did it. When Christmas came, Grantaire drove for nearly two days with Bee, dropped her off, and then stayed in a hotel nearby. Though he declined the offer to stay in Enjolras’ apartment, he did join them Christmas day. Bee constantly clung to Enjolras, but he didn’t mind. She went to work with him, despite the disapproval of his boss, where he introduced her to all his coworkers and let her steal everything from the break room. At home, they would watch movies late into the night, but rarely watched the screen in favor of talking. His mom also came over Christmas day, but showed obvious restraint in allowing Enjolras and Bee to spend time together.   
Even though they were separate for only a week, and by only a few miles, Bee would FaceTime Grantaire every day at the time that would be reserved for Enjolras had she been at home.   
Saying goodbye was even harder than before since he could only stand helplessly and watch as she disappeared. 

Enjolras would be the last person to admit it, but he had reached a low point in his life. It was late February and he had seen his daughter for one week in the past six months and had to wait yet another month until spring break. The novelty of the new job had long since vanished, his friends were contacting him less as they went on with their lives without him, and Grantaire had all but disappeared. He was lonely and heartbroken, so he did what he always did: worked.   
While his bosses praised his work, any relationships with his coworkers were cut off. He never went out, barely had time to keep his apartment in order, and hardly slept. He kept on a brave face for Bee whenever she FaceTimed, though, since she was already worried about Grantaire, who had been more distant as of late.   
At three in the morning one Saturday, Enjolras had just turned off his lights and crashed on the couch since his bed was covered in paperwork and dirty dishes when a frantic knock forced him to drag himself out of bed.   
Grumbling, he trudged over to his front door and threw it open.  
“It’s three in the morning, the entire building had better be on fire,” he groused.   
He froze when he found himself face to face with Grantaire.   
“We need your help,” Grantaire said.   
Enjolras stayed frozen in the doorway looking at Grantaire. The artist was thinner than before, paler, and had dark circles under his eyes. Despite how frail he looked, he had somehow managed to carry Bee, who was fast asleep, all the way to Enjolras’ apartment.   
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Enjolras whispered in horror.  
“Tell you what?”  
“That things were this bad with you. You look terrible. What happened?”   
“Can I put her down somewhere?” Grantaire asked, nodding to his sister and avoiding the question.  
“Oh, yeah,” Enjolras said, snapping out of his shock and letting them in.   
They put her on the inflatable mattress Enjolras hadn’t put away since Bee’s Christmas visit and sat on the couch.   
“What’s going on?”  
Grantaire sighed and looked away. “Dad’s back.”   
Enjolras inhaled sharply. He knew next to nothing about Grantaire’s father but he knew both the siblings were terrified of him.   
“Tell me from the beginning,” Enjolras said, scooting closer.  
“Not much to tell. I thought I saw him around so I was careful to stay inside. I called in sick to all my jobs and hoped he would go away. I had to go back to work eventually and one day he was there.”  
“What did he do?” Enjolras asked tensely, looking Grantaire over to see if he was injured.   
“He didn’t do anything. It was what he said.”   
Grantaire finally looked up with terrified eyes that were full of tears.   
“He… He said,” Grantaire sobbed, “He said that he’s going to take me to court. To get Bee back. I don’t have custody, we ran away. He knows we don’t have proof. And even if he loses, he said he’s going to keep her away from me by sending me to jail or to an asylum. Or send her there.”   
Grantaire was shaking and sobbing so violently he started to hyperventilate.   
“Why would you go to jail?” Enjolras asked as he rubbed Grantaire’s back.  
“Did Bee tell you what happened to our mom?” Grantaire’s voice was suddenly detached and he had stilled.   
“She went mad and tried to kill Bee and then died at some point, yeah?”   
“She died that same day,” Grantaire said quietly. “I came in and saw her standing over her own daughter with a knife in her hands. She always carried that knife around in case someone Dad forgot to pay came after her. She kept saying ‘I have to do it or I’ll die’. I yelled for help but nobody came. She brought her arm down and I grabbed it and managed to get the knife from her so she just grabbed Bee and was going to throw her. Next thing I knew the knife was in her chest and she was frozen in shock so I grabbed Bee.”   
“You were eleven when this happened?” Enjolras whispered in horror.   
“Either I’m a murderer or insane. Either way I’ll be locked up.”  
“It was self-defense. You saved Bee’s life.”   
“There weren’t any witnesses or cameras. Why would anyone believe a mother would try to kill the daughter she was excited to have?”  
“Was she actually excited?”  
“Yeah. I hated her before she was born,” Grantaire said while pointing with his chin to room where Bee slept. “She was going to be the favorite. At least to Mom anyway, our dad couldn’t care less. Guess I levelled the playing field that day.”   
“Don’t say that,” Enjolras said, horrified, as he roughly shook Grantaire’s shoulder. The bitterness in Grantaire’s voice was scaring him. “That’s not why you did it.”   
“How do you know?”  
“Because you would never kill out of bitterness.”   
Grantaire slumped back against the couch. The dull glow of the single working lightbulb in the living room made his skin look even more thin and waxy.   
“What can I do?” Enjolras asked softly.   
“I can’t afford a lawyer, can you call in some favors?”  
“Of course.”  
“I probably won’t be able to get custody, but could you try?”  
“Yes, but it may be difficult with all the times I’ve been arrested.”   
“Joly can be next in line, he hasn’t been arrested.” Joly usually stayed at the rendezvous point with medical supplies ready.   
“Our priority needs to be keeping him away from Bee,” Grantaire said.  
“That always has been your priority,” Enjolras pointed out, shooting Grantaire a meaningful look.   
“And if you could keep me out of jail that would be nice too.”

The next day, Enjolras walked into the office of his mentor.  
“Mr. Lamarque?”   
“Enjolras, my boy!” Lamarque greeted loudly. He got up and clapped Enjolras on the back. “How have you been?”  
Enjolras wanted to point out that they had talked to each other yesterday but instead decided to get to the point.  
“I’ve actually gotten myself into a spot of trouble.”  
“Oh dear. Did you get yourself arrested again?”  
“No, I’m afraid it’s much more serious than that.”  
He told Lamarque everything that Grantaire had told him the night before.   
“That is quite the spot of trouble,” Lamarque remarked mildly.   
“I realize it’s a big case, but I can pay you-” Lamarque raised his eyebrow- “Alright my mom can pay you,” Enjolras amended.   
“There’s no need, I’ll do it. I hate to see families be separated.”   
“Thank you.” Enjolras felt tears of relief well up in his eyes. He really was sleep deprived if he was being this emotional.  
“When can I meet with your daughter and her brother?” Lamarque asked.  
“Anytime that works for you. They’re staying at my place.”   
“We can head over together after work, then.” 

“Papa!” Came a shriek as soon as Enjolras opened the door to his apartment. He had left before Bee had gotten up and he didn’t want to wake her.   
Enjolras picked up the girl even though she was far too big for it.   
“Hi, Bumblebee,” he greeted.   
Lamarque moved forward to shake hands with Grantaire who had appeared next to them while Bee cried into Enjolras’ shoulder.   
“Bee, this is Mr. Lamarque, he’s going to be your lawyer for this case,” Enjolras told her as he pried her away slightly.   
Bee straightened and held out her hand.  
“Nice to meet you,” she said politely as they shook hands. “Now let’s get to work.”  
Lamarque blinked at Enjolras in surprise.  
“Now I know she’s your daughter,” he told her. 

Their quest for gathering witnesses brought them home first. Well, it brought Enjolras and Lamarque because the siblings’ father was hanging around the city. They got some of Bee’s teachers to speak on behalf of Grantaire’s, and if the case headed that way, Enjolras’, right to have custody of Bee, as well as speaking on behalf of Bee’s sanity, on the condition that Enjolras never showed up to parent-teacher conferences again. Mabeuf would speak on behalf of Grantaire in the hopes of keeping him out of jail along with Grantaire’s favorite art teacher Ms. Floreal and the on campus psychologist he saw.   
Lamarque had explained that the psychologist would only be used if they had already failed to allow Grantaire to be Bee’s legal guardian and if Grantaire’s father used the artists’ mental health to argue that he should be in an asylum. The prejudice of the court would likely prevent Grantaire from having custody if they found out he needed to see a therapist. While the injustice of it all pissed Enjolras off to no end, he agreed that Lamarque was correct. 

Enjolras and his mentor flew home long enough to repack and pick up Bee and Grantaire before heading down to their birthplace. 

“I don’t like this,” Grantaire said again as he watched his little sister duck into the garage of their childhood home from their rented car.   
“So you keep saying,” Enjolras said mildly, though he was just as tense.   
“I should go with her.”  
A crackling sigh came from Enjolras’ phone. “We’ve been over this,” Bee said impatiently. “I’m allowed into the home of my legal guardian, you would get charged with trespassing.”  
“Are you in the house yet?” Enjolras asked to keep Grantaire from arguing back.   
“I’m picking the lock now.” It was probably concerning that both men weren’t at all surprised she knew how to do so.   
“Has Feiully texted any update with Dad?” Grantaire asked.  
“He said your dad was at your work an hour ago and it’s a three hour flight, we’re fine,” Enjolras told him.  
“We’ve got a problem,” Bee told them.  
Both men grabbed their door handles, ready to run out of the car and help her.   
“What is it?” Enjolras asked. In the passenger seat, Grantaire was turning green.   
“Either he actually pulled his life together or he’s trying very hard to make it look that way.   
“There’s actual food in the fridge.”  
“He knocked down a wall to make the room bigger.”  
“The basement is finished now.”  
“Oh hell no.” The fact that Grantaire didn’t comment on the language spoke to how nervous he was.  
“What is it.”  
“He put up a family photo,” Bee spat bitterly.   
“A...what...how-” Grantaire sputtered. “Where would he get that?”  
“It’s photoshopped, obviously. Hang on a second.”  
“Well,” Bee said after a few moments, “I can at least prove this is a lie.”   
“How?” Enjolras asked.  
“There’s some gross love letter on the back but the date it’s supposed to be taken was just a few weeks before I was born. Mom’s not pregnant in the picture.”  
They waited for her to snoop around more. “I found construction history, a stash of booze under a floor board that’s new, and a bunch of stolen credit cards.”  
“Have you taken pictures of everything?” Grantaire asked.  
“Yeah.”  
Bee stumbled out of the house a few minutes later.   
For how calm her voice sounded over the phone, she looked anything but. Her eyes and cheeks were red even though any tears had long since been wiped away.   
Enjolras and Grantaire got out to meet her.   
Without saying anything, Bee collapsed against her brother’s chest and gripped the back of his shirt tightly. Enjolras stood over them and stroked Bee’s hair gently.   
“Sorry you had to go back there, Bumblebee,” Grantaire said quietly.  
“Better me than you,” she muttered.  
The girl didn’t cry, she just stared in shock at nothing.   
The three of them got into the car and headed home. 

Their final stop was Bee’s olding school. It was also their last hope of finding evidence against the siblings’ father since he had tried his best to get rid of it all at his house.   
“Is that little Bee I see?” greeted a woman with long dark hair at the entrance to the old stone building that made up the administration wing.   
“You look so grown up. And you look so much happier,” the woman said as she embraced the girl.   
“Hi Ms. Fantine,” Bee greeted.   
“Are you alright Grantaire?” Fantine asked gently as she moved to hug him as well.  
“Just a bit stressed,” he answered with a strained smile.   
“It’s nice to meet you ma’am,” Enjolras said as he shook her hand. “I’m Enjolras. I’ve been helping take care of Bee for the last couple years.”   
Fantine beamed. “That’s wonderful.”   
“So what do you all need?” she asked.  
“We need to talk to you and Headmaster Madeleine,” Enjolras said. 

The four of them entered an office where Lamarque sat with Madeleine.   
“Good to see you again, Bethea,” Madeleine greeted kindly.   
Bee must have really respected the man because she only grimaced and didn’t correct him.   
“Good to see you too, though I wish it were under different circumstances.”  
Both Enjolras and Grantaire rolled their eyes a bit at the drama.  
“There’s going to be a court case,” Lamarque explains, then told Madeleine and Fantine about the custody battle, their plan, and their planned accusations.   
“What do you need us to do?” Fantine asked determinedly while Madeleine looked on in thoughtful silence.   
“Have you seen or heard anything that could make you a witness for the case?”  
“I’ve patched up Grantaire before, many times. Everytime he came to stay during the summer,” Fantine said. “I’ve looked after Bee before when she would have nightmares about what happened.”   
“If he tries to say he sent her here, I can argue against him,” Madeleine added quietly.   
“I also came to check on them while they stayed the summer, so I know they weren’t getting any help from their father during that time,” Fantine added.  
“I went to their house once.” Everyone except Grantaire looked up in shock at Madeleine’s words.   
“I can attest to the state of things,” he added.  
“You knew about this?” Bee asked Grantaire.  
“It was after I’d already run away so making a case out of it didn’t make sense at the time.”   
“We are only doing any of this if their father starts it. It may not even happen,” Enjolras said.  
“Actually, their father found a lawyer,” Lamarque said.  
“Who is it?” Madeleine asked.  
“Javert.” Enjolras didn’t know why Madeleine and Fantine paled so much.   
“He tried to separate me and my daughter,” Fantine said quietly.   
“It’ll be fine,” Lamarque assured everyone as the tension in the room increased dramatically.   
“Yeah,” Grantaire echoed monotonously looking ill. “Everything will be fine.”


End file.
